Whose Will Demands
by Lynnth2014
Summary: Homicide Detective Tara Chambler and her partner recently survived a tragic shooting, and a teenage girl who was a confirmed a serial killer didn't survive. Tara is left with the guilt and the feeling of blood on her hands, despite being cleared for the shoot. Tara struggles to come to terms with the events of that day and avoids seeking help, until her limits are reached.
1. Friendly Concern

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

 ** _As requested by ChamblerBr._**

– – –

Scorching water ran down her shoulders and through her dark hair, she watched several strands of water cascading down her breasts and stomach, swirling around the drain, and she closed her eyes, the feel of water gliding down her face not enough to calm the emotions building up in her chest.

She splayed her hands on the wall before her, her fingers gripping the damp tiles, and she clenched her jaw, the events of that day playing on a loop in her head. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to forgot. She didn't want those images in her head. She didn't want to see all that blood, hear those screams and know what happened, know exactly who walked away from it all. She couldn't find peace with her actions due to the outcome. She would never find peace.

She shut off the water and shuddered, lifting her head and moving wet hair back from her face. She inhaled with some difficulty due to steam, and she wrung out her hair, not once opening her eyes. She wrapped herself in a towel and stepped out of the shower. She picked up her toothbrush, squirted out a thick white strip of toothpaste onto it and scrubbed her teeth, watching her hazy actions in the steam-covered mirror.

She spat twice and rinsed her toothbrush off then her mouth, and she blew out a sigh on her way to her bedroom. It was late, passed midnight, and she had an early shift tomorrow. She promised Lilly she would pick Meghan up from school, and she had to pay rent tomorrow as well. She hoped the landlord wasn't in a foul mood, because her mood trumped his. It would linger with her for a while, they said, but she knew it would stay with her forever. Good shoot or not, it changed not only the suspect's life but her own. There was no way she could forget that. She would sooner forget her name before she forgot the look in those dark, empty eyes and the feel of her partner's blood seeping through her scarf. They stained her hands with blood, and while she had only felt Noah's blood, the blood that stained her hands belonged to the suspect. Her first kill. Christ.

She yanked the blanket over her head and quietly moaned, coiling up like a snake in her pajamas, and she closed her eyes, hoping that her dreams would be blank. She needed blank dreams to wash away today, even for an hour. Or eight, if she was lucky. Please just let her be lucky, if only for tonight.

– – –

"A psych evaluation? A therapist?" Tara questioned the next morning with the Captain. "I'm fine. It was a good shoot, and being poked at by a professional isn't going to make me feel better."

Espinosa met her eyes. "It's not open for negotiation, Chambler. I expect a call when the session is over from Cloyd. If I find out you skipped the session, you're risking your shield."

She cocked a hip. "Rosita, you know me. I don't need to have my head shrunk. If anyone needs to talk to someone, it's Noah. He was shot!"

"He _is_ speaking to someone. His wife made sure of that. And besides, I just told you it's not open for negotiation. Please, don't make this any harder than it has to be." She rose from her seat. "I want you on desk duty for two weeks, and I expect you to meet with Cloyd for at least three weeks, twice a week, all right?"

She huffed. "Fine."

"It's not punishment." She smiled at her. "It's protocol."

"I know." She nodded. "I'll speak with this Cloyd tomorrow then."

"Here's the card." She held it out between two fingers. "If you want to talk to someone after who "won't shrink your head", I'm here. So is your partner."

"Yeah, but the last time I went to see him, he kept talking about purple elephants in the room and pink mice." She shrugged a shoulder, and Rosita chuckled. "Maybe when he doesn't have enough sedatives to subdue a small horse in him, I'll have a chat with him."

"That sounds like a good idea." She crossed her arms. "We're done here, detective."

"Captain." She departed the office and approached her desk, plopping down and tossing the card in a desk drawer that doubled as lost and lost. It was a frightening thing to poke through. She caught a whiff of a foul smell for the first year she sat here and found a sandwich from the older detective who used to sit here last month. It was disgusting until Dawn fainted at the sight and scent of it then it was priceless. She only wished she had a recording of it.

Since then she made a point to avoid sifting through the drawers for anything. She had lost a dozen packs of pens to this monster, and she wouldn't open anything but the top drawer to try and check for a pen. She hoped the card followed the same path as her pens and hair ties and packs of gum. She knew Rosita would lecture her afterward, but she didn't need a therapist. All it would do was keep the shooting alive, and that was last thing she wanted. She would work this out herself. She had more important things to worry about—like her partner who took one to the shoulder. She needed to pay him another visit and see if he was lucid enough to have a conversation with people who were actually in the room. She should check in on his wife and kid too.

Her eyes fell on the picture on her desk, and she exhaled. It was taken on Meghan's 12th birthday. It was her favorite picture of them—Lilly, Meghan, Dad and herself. It was the last birthday they had with all four of them present. Dad passed on a month later. It hit Meghan the hardest, and Lilly and Tara did their best to always be there for her. She was a trooper, but like the rest of us Chambler women, she wore armor and kept everything inside. She knew where—and who—she'd learned it from, and it broke her hear to think Meghan could be suffering in silence right now. She went out of her to give Meghan happy memories and laughter when she could, but she didn't know if it was sufficient. She could keep on making her smile and laugh, and hope dark thoughts didn't taint her in any way. Eventually they would seep through, but not at this age, not at fourteen.

"How was the meeting?" Sasha sat in the chair beside Tara's desk. "You look pale."

"I spent the week binge watching one of the shows my ex suggested." She shrugged a shoulder. "I didn't get much sun."

Sasha crossed her legs. "Uh-huh. Again I ask, how was the meeting? Do you have to see Cloyd?"

"She suggest her to you too?"

"No, actually, I asked."

"You asked?" Her brows rose.

"I did it, because it builds up, Tara. I wanted to have the best there for me." She gestured with her hand, the other holding her coffee. "I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to get help. I did a few sessions, but I never even scratched the surface of my the real issue. It got to the point where it began to affect my job, and I hesitated to pull the trigger. I was in a fatal position, and instead of firing at the suspect...I froze and took two in the chest. PTSD is real, and you need to see someone."

"I know, but this is different."

"That doesn't matter. An armed dealer or a serial killer, you still shot a fourteen-year-old girl. You saved your partner's life until help arrived, but that doesn't change the facts." She locked eyes with her. "You had no choice, and I fully support what you did; it was a good shoot. But that doesn't mean you're okay, that doesn't mean you won't regret it later."

"What's to regret? She shot my partner and murdered five other people, and I did everything by the book." She glanced at her watch. "I have to pick up my niece. Excuse me."

Sasha watched her friend of eleven years scurry from the station, and she shook her head. She knew there was no way in hell Tara was all right, just like she knew Tara had tossed the card with Cloyd's number on it in the desk that probably lead to Narnia. She would have to call Denise and let her know where to find Tara. She could make her see why she needed to talk about it, and Sasha owed Tara this. She would forgive her later, or make sarcastic jabs at her for the next year and a half, but that was fine too. She wanted what was best for her, and from experience she knew avoiding the situation wasn't going to do her a shred of good.

––

Tara pushed up on the tips of her toes, her hands buried in her jacket pockets to keep the cold away, and she saw her niece with her friends pooling out of the building. She smiled and waved to get her attention, Meghan parted ways with her friends and joined her aunt, and Tara saw flashes of the girl she had shot. The way Meghan's light hair drifted behind her, the way her arms moved—it was very like the other girl.

"Aunt Tara." She grinned at her. "You came!"

Tara snapped back to reality. "Of course. Why wouldn't I have come?"

"Well, being a big time homicide detective and all," she joked, "I thought you'd forget about the little people."

"I tried my best, but as much as I tried my phone kept ringing and yelling messages of how I had to pick up my niece. It's weird how feminine my phone sounds."

"You're so weird." She laughed nevertheless. "I have a book report due on Thursday, could you drop me off at the library?"

"Nope, only home." She opened the car door. "You have Internet for that exact reason."

"Have you seen my computer? It was made when dinosaurs roamed the Earth." She slipped in the car and stuffed her backpack on the floor between her ankles. "It coughs up more dust than a broken sweeper, and it smells like I'm burning plastic. It's a hazard."

"Or an adventure. The smell and the dust will encourage you to write the report and not procrastinate." She started the car. "Besides we both know the only reason you want to go to the library is because you like that boy."

"What?" Meghan was flushing, and she tried to throw her aunt off. "That's ridiculous! I don't—like any boy."

"You know, you can tell me that without screeching." She drove toward the apartment where her sister lived.

She stared at her aunt with her mouth open, and she slouched in the seat. "How did you find out?"

"I'm a cop. It's my job to notice details." She tapped her thumbs on the steering wheel. "Plus your mom told me last week."

She blushed even more. "Of course she did." She gazed out the window. "You and Mom are the worst, you know."

"How are _we_ the worst?"

"You're always talking about me behind my back—my grades, my interests, my crushes. It's not fair. You guys never talk to me about your stuff."

"We don't talk about you behind your back. Your mom's just catching me up to speed on your lives."

"Same difference." She huffed.

"What things do you want to know about?" She peeked at her niece's face. "Do you want to know how many hot pockets I ate last night? Or that I can hold more vodka than water?"

She licked her bottom lip and straightened up. "Okay, what about Noah? You never told me what happened there."

"Noah was shot. That's the whole story."

"Oh, come on, Tara. The whole school knows that a kid shot him." She rubbed her hands together. "Him and five other people."

"How do you know about that?" she demanded.

"She's a serial killer, and she's my age. Everyone at school is talking about it." She lowered her voice like it was a secret. "She went to my school last year. Isn't that freaky? If she hadn't transferred, I'd have gone to class with a serial killer."

"I don't want to talk about this."

"Mom says you killed her," Meghan continued. "That you did it to protect your partner. I think it's cool, and you did the right thing. She was...nuts."

"Meghan, I just said we were done talking about this," she snapped. "I don't want you to mention it again, okay? It wasn't cool. It wasn't right. It was just my job."

Meghan lowered her eyes. "It doesn't change the facts—she deserved it."

Tara shook her head and flicked on the radio, her eyes on the road. She didn't want to think about this anymore. She knew it was hot news this week, but by this time next week a new, juicy story would replace this one. She had to hold on until then. Once everyone stopped discussing it, she would stop feeling this way, and she wouldn't see her face everywhere. It was her duty to protect the people and to protect her partner. It was a good shot, and she had no reason to feel this way. She only felt guilty, because Noah took a bullet he didn't have to. If she had just kept running, they might have been able to subdue her, and it wouldn't have happened. She needed to find a way to get over that guilt. Maybe when she saw him next. She had to keep it together until then.

"Are you staying for dinner?" Meghan tossed her backpack and jacket on the couch. "Mom has to work to cover another nurse's shift, so I'm ordering pizza."

"I have to get back to work." She offered her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, kid, rain check."

She nodded. "I'll just eat it while "adventuring" over my laptop."

She smirked. "Have fun with that. I'll see you tomorrow. Same time, same place, right?"

"All year round." She unraveled her scarf. "Stay warm, okay?"

"You too." She hugged her goodbye. "I love you, Meg."

"I know." She stepped back. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She watched niece disappear to her bedroom, and she left. Meghan hadn't been able to tell anyone she loved them since Dad passed on. Lilly noticed it on her birthday this year, when Meghan didn't write I love you on the bottom of the card as she'd always done. Since then Lilly and Tara told her they loved her to see if she would say it back, but so far she hadn't. They didn't know if they should have her see someone. Lilly wanted her to be able to talk through her grief and any regrets she may have had, but Tara was positive Meghan just needed their love and reassurance. So far Lilly's option was becoming more and more appealing, and Tara only wanted what was best for Meghan. She wouldn't agree to talk to someone, but if Lilly made her, it might work.

She didn't like the idea of someone probing around in her niece's mind to try and find where the gears stuck together. She did truly want what was the best for Meghan, however she wasn't sure that was therapy. She would have to open up about her life to some random stranger, and Tara didn't know how she could do that when she wouldn't tell her own family what was wrong. Maybe she was worried this person could understand her better than she or Lilly could. Maybe she was worried there was a deeper issue here. She didn't want to wake up and find a complete stranger in her niece's eyes, but as the days when on, that's exactly what was happening. How could a stranger look at her and aid her in returning to herself? How could someone who hadn't been there from the start calm whatever storms Meghan had inside her? How could someone else recognize and shake loose the anguish and anger of loss in her better than family?

She grumbled and padded down the stairs to her car. She wasn't particularly eager to be on desk duty, but she couldn't escape her fate. It was just two weeks, right? If Rosita tried to up the time, she was going to bash her head against a wall. No one liked desk duty, and she hated all that paperwork. It was a nightmare. She had smears of ink on her hands for days afterward. She wasn't ready for this hell, but it was coming. She decided to treat herself to coffee and some chocolate donuts on the way. It wasn't a cop thing. It's just... who the hell didn't love donuts?

– – –

"Did you finish typing up the release papers of that drunk and disorderly?" Sasha inquired the next day to desk duty Tara.

"It's taking more time than I thought. All these periods and commas."

"Really?" She arched a brow.

"No, I'm holding him out of spite." She lifted her eyes from the computer screen. "He called me a rugmuncher."

She nodded. "How long can we hold him before Captain makes us release him?"

"I don't know. Wanna find out?"

"I do." Her phone buzzed, and she looked at the screen. "I have to go, but let me know how this works out."

"Wait, what's going on?"

"Same old, same old." She shrugged a shoulder. "I'll talk to you later."

She groaned and watched Williams and Lerner head out. Grimes was her usual partner, but when one of the kid's sick, Grimes won't leave his or her side. She was tempted to sneak out, but Rosita would know. Her desk was directly in front of her office, and there was no hope of slipping out clean. She would have to suffer and do her time. One week, six days. God, she hoped some livelier—and kinder—drunks came in or something. She couldn't handle the tap, tap, tap of computer keys coupled with the clicking clock. She felt like she was in high school all over again, and those awkward four years deserved to be buried in the past. Eeh.

An hour passed by, Tara continued to delay their lovely guest's release, and she began to stack pencils. She wasn't trying to make anything, but it was either stack pencil or, you know, do her job. She wasn't worried about the system falling to pieces while she stacked pencils. She had done the major items earlier. She wasn't a slacker, but there was little need to take initiative with what was left.

Somehow even more bored with slacking, she was about to return to work when someone stopped by her desk, and she raised her head. A blonde woman with glasses stood before her, green eyes locking with hers, and she cleared her throat to speak, but the woman cut her off in a gentle tone.

"Tara Chambler, right?"

"Uhh, yes. That's my name." She stood up. "Can I help you with anything?"

"You can." She reached in her pocket her and pulled out a card. "You can come see me."

"Excuse me?" She accepted the car, seeing the name Denise Cloyd. "Oh, you're Cloyd."

"Yes, I am." She adjusted her glasses. "You were supposed to stop by yesterday."

"I got busy."

She ran her eyes over her desk. "With stacking pencils?"

"It's rude to trivialize my vastly important duties."

She gave a small smile. "I didn't mean to offend. Clearly this wouldn't be finished without your dedication."

"I try."

"Will you try to come and see me then?"

"Persistent, aren't you?"

"It's mandatory."

"I'll make my way to you," she promised. "Soon. I just have a lot on my hands right now, but I'll try for next Thursday."

"Don't wait that long." She took back the card she handed Tara and wrote on the back of it. "This is my home number and address. Don't hesitate to call or stop by if you feel anxious. I work from home too, so don't think it's weird that I just gave you my address."

"Thank you." She stuffed the card in her pocket. "Can I call you Denise? I'm not one for formalities."

"That's fine, just no nicknames."

She gave a nod. "Is that all you wanted to talk about?"

"No, that wasn't all." She pointed behind her. "Your pop machine ate my dollar. That root beer was the highlight of my night."

She laughed. "It's a piece of shit. Let me help you with that."

Denise followed her back to the machine. "What are you going to do?"

"Just keep a lookout." She stepped back and slammed her boot against the side of the machine, the sound of clanking came and Denise chuckled. "You have to be rough with the old girl."

"Thank you." She pulled a can of root beer out. "I should go. I have an appointment in an hour."

"I'll probably see you soon."

She held her hand out and shook Tara's hand, slipping her the root beer on her way out.

"Hey, wait, didn't you want this?" Tara called.

"Not a fan," she replied. "Enjoy your stacking!"

She tilted her head. "Huh." She opened the can and stepped back toward her desk. She was an odd woman. Maybe talking to her wouldn't be the end of the world. Or maybe she could stack the pencils around the can.

––

It was going on eight when Tara asked to leave for the night. Her fingers were exhausted, and her back hadn't been this stiff from sitting in the same position since she used to lie in bed and binge watch TV series. Granted that was last weekend, but still. She needed to go for a run and wake up.

"We need you here," Rosita replied.

"To do what?" Tara put her hands on her hips. "Unless my new job is to make sure no one steals the staplers, I'm sure the guys can handle everything here."

"Did you set up an appointment?"

"Maybe I could if I wasn't making sure no one stole our number two pencils."

"Fine, you can leave, but I do expect a call soon."

"I expect my roommate from college to return with beer—and my car."

"You're not planning on seeing Cloyd?"

"It was just a joke." She held her hands up. "So, I can leave?"

"Yes, you can go. Have a nice night."

"Thanks, beautiful." She turned on her heel.

"Tara."

She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. "Yeah?"

She was in the doorway. "As a friend, I'd like you to see this therapist. I worry about everyone of you, especially after a shooting. The one you endured was rough, and I want you to be okay."

"And I will be." She flashed a brilliant smile. "Have a nice night, Captain."

The cold winter breeze greeted her as she hopped down the stairs and toward her car. She shivered and sucked in icy air, digging her keys from her car, and she clicked her tongue. She reached out to unlock her door when she heard brakes screeching.

A car slid on the ice and ran a stoplight, a group of kids were in the street, and Tara shouted to them. The scattered to try and dodge the car, and she ran over to make sure they were all right when the car stopped spinning in circles, and she almost relaxed. Then she saw the blood on the sidewalk and her eyes widened, following the path to one of the girls in the group.

"Call an ambulance!" She dropped beside the girl who couldn't be older than sixteen, and she looked over the wound she'd sustained on the back of the head. One of the kids from the group was scrambling to tell the 911 operator their location, and Tara checked for a pulse, never taking her eyes off the girl's face. "Stay with us, okay? Stay with us."

A man rushed over to Tara and unconscious teenager girl. "Is she okay? I tried to stop! I did. My car just slid on the ice, and I couldn't stop." His voice trembled. "God, she doesn't look good. Will she be okay?"

Tara whipped her head around. "Why don't you back up and get some air? All right? You're not helping anyone by crowding her. Help is on the way." She ran her eyes over him. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He stepped back like she had ordered.

She returned her attention to the girl and held her hand. "It'll be okay. Help is coming, and you'll be fine. You'll be fine."

– – –

It was ten 'o clock at night, a fresh blanket of snow covered the ground and more fluttered down, covering streetlamps and cars; giving kids hope that maybe school would be closed tomorrow. It was a beautiful night for snow, and the soft lamplight lit up and reflected sparkles. It was tranquil and picture perfect.

Tara found herself on a park bench alone that night, the freezing snow and temperature having no affect on her. Snowflakes piled on shoulders and on her dark hair, melting slowly at her warmth, but she was leaning over, staring at her boots so no snow touched her legs.

 _Perp has a gun! Officers in pursuit on foot!_

She shuffled her feet, the frigid temperature having sunk through the layers of her boots and socks and numbed her toes. She couldn't feel much of anything, to be honest. The tips of her ears, her cheeks, her nose, her lips—all numbed by the winter chill. Her heart was racing in her chest, and her mind played images of the shooting, but the rest of her body remained still.

 _Stop! Police!_

She jerked her head to the side, as if that would save her from seeing the events unfold in her head.

 _Stop!_

– – –

The sound of vigorous knocking woke the young woman, and she groaned when she saw the time. It was ten minutes to midnight. She nonetheless picked herself up and ambled to the door, removing the lock chain and turning the lock. She opened to find Detective Chambler standing there with pale features and shaking.

"Tara." Denise blinked several times and squinted to make sure she was seeing correctly. She hadn't put on her glasses. "What are you doing here?"

"She didn't stop when we commanded her to," Tara muttered so low that Denise couldn't hear her. "She kept going. She was fast. She could've gotten away, but... then she did stop. Why did she stop?"

"Tara, do you know what time it is?"

"You said to come by...if I felt anxious." Tara's misty brown eyes met Denise's. "And I—I didn't know where else I could go."

"Come inside." She stepped over and showed her in, locking up after her. "Have a seat." Her hand brushed Tara's, and she frowned. "You're freezing."

"I...was out in the park." She shook her head. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine. I'll put on some...thing. I don't know what I have. Do you like tea?"

"It's fine." She sank onto the couch. "I don't mind. I'll drink pretty much anything."

"Okay." She rubbed her wrist then swiped a blanket from the hall closet and tossed it over Tara's shoulders. "You'll catch a cold being out in this weather."

"Thank you." She hugged it tighter.

Denise filled the kettle with water once she ensured she had tea, and she rubbed a hand under her eye to rub away the exhaustion so she could speak to Tara. She repressed a yawn and pulled down two cups from the cabinet. She grew curious as she glanced over the few tea options.

"If you don't mind me asking, what made you decide to come and talk to me?"

When there was no answer, Denise turned around and found the worn detective passed out on her couch. She crossed her arms and let out a soft laugh, flicking off the stove. She tiptoed over to her and whispered her name to see if she was asleep or just drifted off, but Tara didn't respond. She wasn't sure how she felt with a stranger in her living room, but she knew Rosita and Sasha, and they both were close enough to Tara to call her and ask her to keep on Tara until she came for a session. She trusted them, and they wouldn't be so fond of Tara if she wasn't considerate and respectful. Although knocking on her door at this time of night was a little rude, but given the state she was in, it's all right. She would let her rest and in the morning, they would have talk.

She turned the lights off and crawled back to her bed. She closed her eyes and rolled on her back, setting the her hand on her hand and falling asleep in seconds.


	2. Support

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

Denise had dressed and prepared coffee before the young detective woke up, and she greeted her with a smile when she sat up, stretching. She peered at Denise with mild confusion then seemed to recall yesterdays events and flushed. She shot up and hastily apologized for falling asleep on her, and Denise laughed.

"It's okay. Believe it or not, you're not the first person to fall asleep on me." She offered her the coffee. "I don't usually eat breakfast at home, but there's some oatmeal in the cabinet. Maybe some yogurt in the fridge."

"I'm not hungry." She curled her freezing fingers around the warm mug. "Thank you for letting me crash on your couch."

"You're welcome."

She drank from her cup to give her time to think of an out, but she honestly couldn't. The thoughts that haunted her last night weren't with her now, and she didn't want to summon them back by talking about it. She knew she had to. Rosita wouldn't lay off her until she went through with at least one session, and there was no time like the present. Or so they said. Whoever "they" were.

"Do you want to know what I'm thinking?"

Tara swallowed hard. "Uh, sure."

"In the years I've known Rosita and Sasha, I can't believe we were never introduced." Her smile was casual with no hint of work. "I've been to their homes for holiday meals and birthdays, but not once have I ever met you."

"We're mostly work friends," she admitted. "I stick close to my family, and I only know my partner Noah outside work. Uh, Williams too."

"That explains it." She set her cup down. "How long have you known Sasha and Noah?

She thought on it and pursed her lips. "God, ten years? No, no, it's been eleven years. We all entered the academy together, but we met as juniors in high school. Noah had the same chemistry class as me, and we hit it off. I love him as much as my sister. Possibly more. He doesn't lecture me to clean up my apartment."

"And Sasha?"

"We had gym together. She was the only one I could talk to, because everyone else was a freshmen. They still thought everything they did in high school mattered." She shrugged a shoulder. "We kept each other company and became good friends. I'm still closer to Noah, because Sasha's like a second sister. She lectures me to pay my bills and how coffee filters were only meant for the kitchen."

"You two are just friends? You and Noah?"

"What else would we be?"

"Something more, maybe?" she suggested, wondering if the root of the problem lied in possible feelings of affection toward Noah and disdain that was now guilt toward the child who shot him.

Tara grinned at that and shook her head. "Noah's awesome, but he doesn't... Well, let's just say I'm not a fan of...wood. Plus, he's married and has a kid."

"Oh." Denise looked a bit embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to assume—"

"Nah, it's okay. I'm used to it. The world assumes everyone is straight, and honestly I enjoy revealing how not straight I am. It's hilarious." She smirked in memory of telling some of her previous coworkers before she made it to homicide. "I thought about sewing a rainbow heart on my clothes, but I hate sewing, and I can't make a heart. I also have the motivation level of a sloth."

She chuckled. "Not when it comes to cases, I hope."

"When I'm on a case, I give it my all." She tucked loose hair behind her ear. "I barely sleep if the case calls for it."

"What do you mean, calls for it?"

"If I know this person will strike again soon, I work through the night to try and put myself in his or her head, so I can find the specific area where he or she may hunt based off the information we currently have on them. People have a type, and so murderers do too."

"Do you think murderers aren't human?"

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that." She bit her bottom lip. "I only meant everyone has a type, and sometimes I can use that against them."

"You're dedicated."

"I am." She took another drink of coffee. "My dad was a cop."

"Was he?"

"He taught me everything I know. He wasn't the best or anything, but I learned a lot. His teachings have helped me more than I thought they would. He was dedicated to being a cop too." She placed the half-empty cup on the table in front of her. "However he wasn't happy when I told him I was enrolling in the academy."

"Why not?"

"He didn't want that life for me. Murderers, rapists, kidnappers—he didn't want them to be on my mind constantly. He didn't want me in danger. I'm the baby of the family." She waved her hands before gripping her knees. "He was proud when I made detective, told me my mom would be proud of me as well."

"Your mom passed on?"

"When I was five." She sniffed and picked up the cup for another drink. "I don't remember her much, but Lilly—my older sister—does. She says I look like her, but there aren't many good pictures, so I only have her word for it."

"That could be why your father didn't want you to be a cop. You remind him of his late wife."

"Maybe." She picked at the design on her cup with her thumbnail. "It's uh, too late to ask now."

"I'm sorry for your loss," was all she said.

"Thanks." She threaded a hand through her hair and closed her eyes. "Can we not do this? Please?"

"I didn't mean to hit a nerve. I thought idle talk would be easier than just cutting to the chase. I didn't mean to upset you."

"My partner was shot five days ago," Tara remarked, not saying anything to Denise's apology. "We were in pursuit of a suspect. We had received a tip that the killer we were looking for would be in the area, and we saw her lurking—with a gun. We called to her, and she took off down the street."

"What happened then?"

"Noah is the faster of the two of us. He caught up to her before I could, identified himself and commanded she drop the gun, and I stopped running, because I thought she would listen. Instead as I _walked_ over to them, she shot him in the shoulder and tried to kill him. I rounded the corner and shot her. In between the eyes." Tara's eyes had widened during the course of her story, the tears that had clouded her eyes last night didn't show themselves now, but her hands were trembling on her coffee cup. "I did what I had to do to keep me and my partner alive, okay? That's it. That's the entire story."

Denise saw there was more to it behind those agonized eyes, but she didn't push. "I'd like you to come to my office next week on Tuesday around one, just to follow up, okay? If you want to talk more, that's fine. We can do that. And if you don't want to talk, that's fine too. Whatever you need."

"I need to not be stuck behind my desk, pushing papers." She stood up and set the cup on the table. "I became a cop to put away murders and the like, but hey, if there are any tape thieves within our department, I'm on the job."

"I don't have any say over that."

"Yeah, I know." She shrugged and strolled over to the door. "I'll see you next week, Doc."

"Tara, you don't have to leave now."

"I do. I have to prove I'm not going to fall apart to my boss, and that's a challenge if I'm here with you analyzing my every word to see how screwed up I after killing a kid." She jerked open the door and walked out.

Denise blew out a sigh and rubbed her thumbs over the top of her coffee mug. She had been asked to call after their first session, and this wasn't it. Tara might consider it to be one, but nothing new was learned. Tara was short and obviously anguished. Next time she needed to be better, to try and at least find the source of Tara's pain to attempt to ease it. She hated the idea of mental/internal anguish, and Tara's was building up. Soon it'd be suffocate her. Denise hoped to cease it before then.

––

"What's going on?" Tara met the Captain's eyes. "Why do you want to talk to me?"

"I received a phone call from Denise just a little while ago."

"Yeah? Did she tell you we talked? I'm okay, Rosita. I don't need to be babied. I just need to get back to work."

"Tara, you're not making my job any easier." Rosita walked around her desk. "I want you to take speaking with Denise seriously. If you don't, I've already warned you about the consequences. This is how things work. You're not in trouble, but I do need to make sure you're stable. You aren't showing me stable right now; you're being distant and using sarcasm as a shield. Stop fighting it so much, and it'll be over before you know it."

She scoffed. "Yes, ma'am."

"You have your psych evaluation today."

"I know."

She leaned on the edge of her desk. "I know it's hard to discuss, but you need to talk to her. She can help you. Remember that. Go on now, please."

She turned on her heel and marched out of the office.

Sasha watched the entire display from her desk and cringed when Tara stormed out, and she checked in on Rosita. "I take it that went poorly?"

She dropped in her chair. "Define poorly. It may have been a level shittier than that."

She sighed. "It had to be done. It's not easy killing someone, and to have that someone be a child? I can't imagine what that feels like, how much it would weigh on me." She leaned on the door frame. "And for it to be Tara? God."

"I know."

"I don't know why she's fighting help so hard. It's eating away at her—we all can tell. So why not talk to someone? If she doesn't want us to see her as weak or a killer then why not talk to a stranger like Denise? When their sessions are over, Denise can be lifted out of her life. She won't have to see her every day and feel ashamed."

"Tara's struggling to accept to her actions," Rosita replied. "Killing a child, no matter how brutal and unfeeling that child was, is not something she can handle. She blames herself for not aiming for her arm or leg. She keeps trying to change the facts, but they're facts. The sooner she realizes that that outcome was for the best and as many people as possible were saved, the better."

"The girl was a ticking time bomb," Dawn stated, having passed by and heard the conversation. "She escalated from animals to people within days, and it would have only gotten worse from there. For her potential victims, I'm glad it was sooner rather than later."

"I understand and accept that some people are wired differently." Sasha shifted her weight. "Lizzie Samuels was one of those people, and now she gets to rest. She doesn't get to hurt anyone else. I wish Tara hadn't been the one to take that shot, but it would have happened eventually, like Lerner said. But that doesn't make what happened any better. The longer she avoids this, the bigger it'll become."

"Yeah," Dawn nodded, "I don't want to wake up and found out she ate a bullet."

Rosita shook her head at that last comment. "I've known Tara a long time, and I know she's tough. She couldn't hurt her family like that either. She's led by her heart, and that's why she can't cope with the events of the shooting. It doesn't matter how much we push, she'll always push back. So we need to be here for her, because the cracks will begin to show just before her entire world comes crashing down."

"We'll be here," Sasha vowed. " _I'll_ be here." She wouldn't let Tara walk that road alone. They were like family. Tara had been with Sasha every step of the way through her first difficult shoot, and Sasha fully intended to return the favor. She wasn't as a good as Denise, but she would do her best. Tara deserved that much. They were friends, coworkers, and Sasha respected Tara greatly. She wanted to be here for her, and she wanted to see Tara smile and mean it again. Tara was the one who usually did the cheering up, but Sasha would have to manage. Until Tara was back on her feet and Noah was released from the hospital, nothing would feel the same around here.

Dawn nodded in agreement with Sasha. "I'm sure O'Donnell and Grimes will agree."

"That's what I was hoping for." Rosita smiled.

––

Tara flashed a grin to her partner and sat beside him. "Hey, you're awake."

He returned her grin. "It's good to see you."

"I brought you some balloons." She tugged one down to show him. "I didn't bring a gift the first time, and I was going to get flowers, but unless you're opening a shop, I don't think you need anymore."

He chuckled. "Yeah, my folks came by."

"That must've been nice." She slouched. "They tell you to quit?"

"Every day." She laughed. "I think one of my brothers bribed me to quit. The other wanted to see my wound. Mom shooed him off."

"You'll have a gnarly scar," Tara commented. "You can show them that."

"Why don't you show him yours?"

"Because if Lilly knew I had gotten shot, though it was more of a graze, I would never hear the end of it. She'd guilt me off the force, and you know how strong her guilt game is." She rested her chin in her palm. "Besides mine is in a more private place than yours."

"That's true." He rolled his head to the side. "How's work? You haven't said."

"I'm on desk duty. I passed my psych, but Rosita wants me to see this therapist—Denise." She rolled her eyes. "She seems all right, but I don't see the point."

"Tara, she was fourteen."

"She was also a murderer. She shot you. She would have killed you." Her tone was harsh, very unlike her, and she averted her eyes. "It won't change anything to talk about it. She's still dead, and we're not. Why do I have to rehash all of it just to return to the same conclusion?"

He licked his lips. "You might feel differently, or you might see it differently. Maybe it'll be better."

"Better? How will it be better?" Her eyes burned. "A child is still dead. There is no better way to kill a fourteen-year-old!"

He met her eyes. "And you don't think you need to talk about it?"

She snuffled. "What do you know? You're doped up right now."

"Yeah, but even I know you should to talk to someone. It won't get better from here. Remember what happened with Sasha?"

"I'm not Sasha. We all cope differently, and I'd like to just forget about this."

"It's not that simple, Tara."

"Yes, it is." She rose. "I have to go, but I'll be back to check on you."

"Lilly says hi," he told her.

Tara tensed. "She—she came by to see you?"

"She said you've been avoiding her."

"Of course she did." She shook her head. "Don't worry about it. Just get some rest and get better. That's an order, partner."

"I will worry about it."

"Leave the worry to your wife and kid, okay?"

"He's three. There's not much for him to worry about."

"I think Daddy getting shot is something for him to worry about."

He smirked. "That's true, but Mommy has it covered."

"I don't doubt it."

"Be safe out there."

She departed his room and bit her lip. She needed to talk to Lilly, but she knew what Lilly would say, and she didn't want to hear that. She knew her sister well and could envision the talk she wanted to have. Lilly acted more like her mother than her sister sometimes, and it drove her up the wall. She loved her sister, but she needed a sister and not a mother. She didn't know when Lilly would realize that but any year would be great. A sister talking to her and giving her advise was what she wanted, not a mother to chastise and scold her.

That, and to be able sleep without having nightmares, without seeing that little girl's body every time she closed her eyes. She knew her body by memory alone, her eyes. God. When she was standing there in the alley with her gun raised about to finish Noah off, those eyes were dark and hollow. When Tara fired and checked to see if the girl had survived, her eyes were wide and scared and still hollow but for an entirely different reason. In that moment she was another little girl, only instead of dolls and homework, she was dead, bleeding out on dirty asphalt. Christ, the blood stained her long, blonde hair. Tara remembered when they were cleaning her up so her family could ID her and how the water looked with all that blood gushing down the drain.

She sank her teeth in deeper and ducked out of the hospital, yanking the hood of her jacket up and lowering her head. Why did everyone think talking about it would make it better? It would just keep that night alive, and she couldn't handle it as it was, so why make it worse? What did they expect Denise to do? Heal her mind? Erase the shooting entirely? Because words weren't as powerful as image. And the image of that girl lying there in her own blood on grungy asphalt was going to haunt her for the rest of her life. There was no peace. There was no returning from that. Anyone who said or thought otherwise were wrong.

Meghan was the same age as her, same long, blonde hair, same eyes, same pale skin. Tara joined the force to keep her niece and sister and everyone else safe. She took an oath and dedicated her life to this, to doing it right. So how could doing everything right end up with such horribly wrong results? She knew what the girl was, and the lab confirmed it was her gun that was used for the other murders, but she was still a kid, still someone who needed to be protected. And yeah, others needed to be protected from her, but that didn't matter anymore, did it? She was dead, buried in the plot by her mother, with white roses placed there with a stuffed rabbit. She wouldn't get the help she needed. She wouldn't be able one day to lead a normal life. She wouldn't graduate from high school or watch her little sister grow up or make her father proud. Her life ended five days ago at Tara's hands. A gun was just a gun, but when thrown into someone's hands only then did it become a weapon. She supposed that went for both of them, but she was still alive and Lizzie wasn't.


	3. Acting As Always

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

It had been a full week since Captain put her on desk duty and recommended Denise Cloyd. Tara hadn't gone to see her since that first time, but she had scheduled an appointment for the next day. She had to deal with her sister today, and Noah was being released from the hospital. He had an infection and had to stay longer, but he was okay to be on his own now. It was a clean shot, through and through, and with PT, he'd be okay in time. He would regain full use of his arm and would be tossing his little boy around in no time. Tara was happy to hear some good news before she walked into the mouth of Hell. She was already nearing it.

She stopped in front of her sister's door and knocked. She didn't have to wait more than a second before the door flew open and Lilly beckoned her inside. She removed her shoes at the sight of yellow gloves and hobbled over the couch to avoid wet carpet. Lilly glared when Tara sat on the back of the couch, but she didn't say anything. She must have quite an argument to not complain about where Tara was sitting, or she was trying to loosen up. She always was wound up after long shifts, and cleaning didn't help, but she had to keep busy, Tara supposed. Lilly had no chill on days like these. She needed to go out on a date and get laid. Or get a massage. It would take four years to undo all her knots, but it'd be worth it.

"Here I thought you only busted this stuff out for spring cleaning." She gripped the couch and watched Lilly mop the kitchen floor.

"If I don't clean up around here, this place turns into a sty." She tucked loose hair from her ponytail behind her ear. "I'm surprised you came by."

"I heard you wanted to talk to me," she leaned forward, elbows on her knees, picking at her thumbnail, "and you've left me about a dozen messages. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."

She stopped cleaning, set the mop against the counter and pried off her gloves. "I'm sorry I didn't come by your place."

"I don't want to talk about it, Lilly. I love you, but I can't keep going back there every time someone wants to know how I am." She couldn't look at her sister. "I just can't."

"I know." She climbed onto the back of the couch beside her. "I know all of that, Tara. You're my baby sister, and I know how you are, what it takes for you to move on and heal. I don't want you in that place anymore than you do."

"Really?"

She nodded then reached over and moved hair out of Tara's face. "You're so messy. God, get it cut or pull it back."

She laughed, and her eyes burned, but she was smiling. "Thanks for that totally awesome advise, sis."

"I could cut it for you." She held up a pair of scissors from the table beside her and came at Tara.

"No! Dude, don't even joke about that!" She smacked her hand and jumped off the couch, and Lilly snickered. "I still have nightmares about the last time you tricked me into letting you cut my hair!"

"I did not trick you."

"I was seven! I didn't know any better, and it was trickery!" She held her hands out in a _fight me_ gesture when Lilly stood up.

"You're such a child." She set the scissors down. "How are you lately? I heard you have the dreaded desk duty."

"It's not so bad if you close your eyes and...fall asleep." She picked up a dingy rag from the bucket of cleaning supplies on the table and moistened it with wood cleaner. "It's what I do from nine to noon. If I can learn to type in my sleep, I'm set for the next week."

Lilly narrowed her eyes as her little sister who never so much as picked up a gum wrapper scrubbed the wooden entertainment center clean. "Tara, are you feeling all right?"

"Yeah, just thought I'd give you a hand."

"Do you...want something? Money?" She folded her arms. "Did you adopt four cats again? Do you want me to cat sit?"

"No."

"Dogs? I know you can't resist the puppies at the pet store."

"Nobody can!" she retorted. "Only a demon can walk by and not pay attention to them. I'm sure Brian does it every week."

She glared. "I thought we agreed to not mention Brian."

"We agreed to not mention a lot of things, but we're sisters. We were born to humiliate and comfort each other, sometimes at the same time like now." She moved to the coffee table. "And I just want to keep busy for a little bit. Is that so wrong?"

"No, I suppose not, and if it helps me clean this place faster then yeah." She reached for her gloves. "Are you busy next weekend?"

"Why?"

"Why do you sound so suspicious?"

"Because you only ask me that question if you want me either babysit or set me up. We made a deal that I would babysit if you never tried to set me up again."

"I met this woman at the bank—"

"This is a lovely story. I met this random stranger who I think would be perfect for you," she mumbled.

"She's your type."

"I don't have a type. Well, I do. Sorta, but you never get it right."

"When was the last time you went out on a date?"

"When was the last time you went out on a date?"

"Okay, fair, but I have a child and career and a sperm donor who keeps fighting me on child support."

"I have a child and career and... Okay, fine. I have less reasons to not be dating, but that's what Noah's for. I live vicariously through him."

"Just consider going out with her."

"What's her name?"

"Holly. She's really cute. She's smaller than you, with short blonde hair and blue eyes. She's funny and nice. We had coffee, and she's recently single."

"Holly." She pressed her lips together. "Maybe, but is she into me or you?"

"I know you're trying to annoy me, but I'm not her type. She seemed interested in you."

"You chatted a stranger up about me? Yeah, that's not awkward."

"She was a stranger two weeks ago when we met. Now she's a good friend. She and Meghan get along great."

"Okay, I feel better about this now." She dropped the rag on the table and wiped her hands on her jeans. "But if this goes badly, I'm setting you up with Tobin from Home Depo."

She scrunched her nose and groaned. "Why? His kinks are probably paint thinners and soil."

"It's only fair. A shit date for a shit date." She held her hand out. "Deal?"

"You do realize the last time I went out with someone as plain as white paint, I got knocked up?"

"That's true, but I'm willing to risk it." She wiggled her fingers. "And it's only if it goes bad. If she's a good match for me then no paint thinner and soil kink Tobin."

She clasped her hand. "Deal, but just so you know he's not too bad on the eyes."

"Your type continues to frighten the hell out of me." She released her hand. "What else can I do that isn't difficult or time consuming?"

Lilly faked a smile. "I can't imagine what I'd do without you, my amazingly altruistic sister."

"I know, right? But I gotta draw a line somewhere. I'm saint, not a doormat."

Lilly thwacked her with rag to clean the windows with and giggled. "Shut up, Tara."

"That hurts me, sis. That really hurts me." She smirked. "Where's the spray bottle?"

"In the bucket." She pointed it out. "Are you going to clean your apartment next?"

"I did last night. I couldn't sleep, and I had more dirty clothes than clean. I've worn the same pair of pants for a week now." She grasped the bottle. "Don't even ask me about my socks."

"You changed clothes after you washed them, right?"

"...sure, if it makes you feel better."

"Don't sit on my couch again."

"What?" She laughed. "Where's the love?"

"Where's your sense of hygiene?"

"I think it was removed about the same time you got that stick put up with your ass."

"Do you want to take a bath in my gross mop water? Keep it up."

"I was kidding. _You don't have a stick up your ass at all._ "

"I'm too old to chase you around the house with this mop, but I might just make an exception for you."

"You're thirty-three. Why do you act like you're two seconds from picking out a cane and replacing your dentures?"

"I meant old as in mature, but thank you."

"I was going off your tone."

"Uh-huh." She couldn't sound more disbelieving if she tried. "Do you want Holly's number before you leave?"

"Yes, please."

"If you two don't work out, I'm still going to be friends with her, okay?"

"What if she cheats on me and leaves me heartbroken and distraught?"

"Then I will kill her."

"You'd better."

She smiled at her sister acting like always, and she tried to pump herself up to clean the rest of the house while Meghan was in school. If she could just wiggle her nose and have this place be clean, she'd do just about anything. If she could get her daughter to clean, that would be a damn miracle. She needed to talk to her, give her more responsibilities, because she was getting out of hand these days. She hoped seeing Tara would help, but it wasn't. It was actually having a negative impact on her. Like causing her to be more irrational and angry and irresponsible. Teenagers. Tara wasn't never this bad. The only good thing about Tara's teenage rebellion was she didn't have to worry about Tara getting knocked up. Dad always said that after Tara came out. He'd known for years, and he was thrilled when she worked up the nerve to tell him. He made that joke to make her laugh, and it worked.

She lowered her eyes. He'd know what to do about Meghan, how to make her smile and how to get her to open up. He was the best at that. Five minutes alone with him, and you'd be laughing to some silly story he probably made up. Lilly had never been like that. She had to be strict and set rules, set an example; because while Dad was a great father, but he couldn't do both jobs. Thus it fell to her to be there for Tara as both mother and sister. She'd been in that head space for all her life, and so when she got pregnant, she thought by having practically raised Tara raising Meghan would be a piece of cake. That wasn't the case. Raising Meghan was brutal. Tara and Meghan couldn't be compared, that was for damn sure.

She released the air she'd been holding. Perhaps tonight they could actually talk. Meghan made a point to avoid her, but not tonight. They were going to sit and talk, no perhaps. She was going to get through to her. She had to. Whatever she did, she couldn't involve Tara. She had enough on her plate, and she didn't need this. Tara would call Holly, they'd go out on a date and then Tara could try to find her way back to some small shred of normal.

– – –

Her office was a nice medium space wise, and she had a decent view. She had a few plants placed here and there that gave the room some life, and there were the pictures of her and a man that was unmistakably her brother. They looked just alike, and Tara suspected they were twins, but she wasn't sure. Some siblings with two or three age gaps happened to look just alike. If she wanted an answer, she would have to ask.

The room smelled like leather, likely from the sofa against the wall, and the two leather armchairs on either side of it. The armchair was comfy, and Tara curled up like a cat on it, resting her head on the smooth material. There the scent of coffee and oatmeal as well. She assumed she'd had breakfast a moment ago. Denise _had_ mentioned oatmeal the morning after their impromptu slumber party, so maybe. Music occupied the room along with her as she waited, and it was making her sleepy. Practically everything made her exhausted lately. It came with the pesky habit of being unable to sleep.

"Sorry to keep you waiting." Denise closed the door behind her. "Tara?"

"I'm awake." She opened her eyes. "Barely, but I'm here."

"Do you want some coffee?"

"No, I'm good." She swallowed. "What's that music?"

"It's Bach. One of my patients find it soothing. Do you want me to turn it off?"

"Unless you want toss me a blanket and pillow." She flashed a sloppy, sleeply smile.

She leaned over and paused the media player on her computer. "Well, you're clearly exhausted. How have you been sleeping? Decently?"

"No." She ran a hand through her hair. "I drink too much coffee at work, so by the time I get home, I am wired."

"Are you sure that's all?" She sat down in the armchair opposite Tara. "Do you have any nightmares?"

"To have nightmares, you actually have to sleep. I have a couple of naps a day, but I don't dream."

"Did you have nightmares? Directly after the shooting?"

"Of course."

"What were they about?"

"I don't remember. Do you remember your nightmares?"

"No, but I do remember a reoccurring dream I have. It haunts me to this very day." She adjusted her glasses. "I can recall every details, right down to the clothes I'm wearing. It's so vivid that I can feel and smell everything."

"What's it about?" Tara studied her face.

"We're here to talk about you, not me." She cleared her throat, pushing the images back. "So, what do you remember from those nightmares? Anything?"

"I dunno. Hair color. Maybe some blood splatter."

"Whose hair color? Yours, your partner's, or the suspect's?"

"Likely the suspect's." She picked at a patch of thin material on her jeans. "She's the one who bleed out onto her hair after all."

Denise nodded. "That's all you can think of?"

"Yep."

"All right. Well, how are you feeling today then?"

"Like I could pass out at any second."

"I meant more along the lines of happy or sad or—"

"I'm too tired to feel anything," she interrupted the other woman. "My head is clogged, and I don't feel anything but a pressing need to drop and sleep for the next 30 years."

"You're not feeling anything?"

"Not like that," she murmured.

"Like what?" Denise pressed, noting how Tara ducked her head. "What do you think I'm thinking?"

"That I'm depressed." She lifted her eyes. "That I might eat my gun, but I won't. And I'm not."

"Okay, let's talk about that. Have you had any suicidal thoughts?"

"No, I haven't."

"Why do I feel like you wouldn't tell me even if you did?"

"I'm not suicidal." She set her feet on the ground and face Denise. "I'm not suffering from depression or PTSD or anything. I'm just a little tired. I'm overworking myself, because I have nothing else to do. I'm stuck behind a desk when I should be out there looking for murders. That's what I've been trained to do. I'm annoyed that everyone keeps treating me like I'm going to fall to pieces! I'm not!"

"After what you went through—"

"I didn't go through anything," she cut Denise off. "I did my job! My partner was shot. _He_ went through something. His wife and son went through something, but not me, okay?"

"Okay." She held her hands up. "You don't have to shout."

"I didn't mean to. I—I just need some sleep." She buried her hands in her palms and sighed. "I'd like to take you up on that offer for coffee now, please."

"Do you like it black? Or with cream and sugar?"

"Black's fine." She ran her hands down her face and pinched her cheeks to try and keep awake. "I'm sorry if I sounded bitchy or was rude. I didn't mean it."

"You're pretty tame compared to some of my patients, and the whole point of this is to get out all of your anger and stress and annoyance. Don't worry about it." She handed a cup to Tara and smiled warmly at her. "Here."

"Thanks." She reached for it with both hands and caught a few of Denise's fingers. Her hands were as warm as her smile, and for a brief moment Tara wanted to squeeze her hand. She wasn't sure why. Maybe in her exhausted stated, she was more vulnerable. It wouldn't be surprising. Denise was attractive and uncomplaining and good-hearted. If she had a type, it would be that.

Denise reached up and touched her forehead.

"What are you doing?" Tara ducked her head down.

"Just making you don't have a fever after your midnight trip to the park when it was snowing." She returned to her seat.

"I'm not sick, but if I was, could I sleep on that couch?" she mused.

"Anytime. My couch is your couch, just not early in the morning. Mr. Anderson comes in the morning, and he yells. He has anger issues, and it's a hassle, but he was on the football team with my brother, and I was asked to help. Dennis knows I can't say no to him."

"Dennis?" She held back a laugh, hiding her grin behind the cup. "Your brother's name is Dennis?"

She chuckled. "Yeah, my parents thought they were being clever. Dennis, Denise."

"It's cute. Are you guys twins? I saw the pictures."

"Yeah, but he's older than me. Only by six minutes though."

"I have an older sister, Lilly, so I get it."

"Why don't you tell me about her?"

"In a normal conversation, or as part of this session conversation?"

"You already know the answer to that."

She nodded. "I do." She decided to just grin and bear it. She drank her coffee and talked about Lilly and what it was like growing up with a sister-mom. She felt secure with Denise and told her things she didn't really tell anybody. She couldn't figure out if it was because Denise was good at what she did or if it just her face. She had an open face, and you could pretty much read her every thought, and if you weren't completely open, you'd see her worried thoughts and feel like crap for not being more honest. If she had to come back for more sessions, she'd definitely figure it out then.

––

"Here concludes our session."

Tara stretched her entire body and sighed. "Mmm."

"Are you more awake now? You look better."

"You make good coffee." She dropped her arms. "Strong coffee."

"Uhh, thanks. I don't think anyone's every said that to me before."

"I may still be waking up." She sniffed. "Do I have to come back?"

"Do you want to come back?" She set the cup down on her desk and met the young detective's eyes. "I can fit you back in at this time again, if you'd like."

She pursed her lips. "Uhh, I might stop by in a few weeks, but I'm good. It was nice to talk to someone."

"You can't talk to your sister? Or your partner?"

"He was in the hospital until yesterday, and I'm stopping by his place after I leave here. Lilly has her mind full of work and Meghan." She rubbed a hand under her nose. "Thanks for just talking to me. It didn't always feel like a session."

"You're welcome. I hope you do come back. If you're not feeling like yourself, or again if you're anxious." She offered her a smile as a goodbye. "Be careful on your way out."

"Yeah, you too."

– – –

"You're right on time." Noah's wife greeted her with a cheery smile. Behind that smile were bags from lack of sleep and clothes that were wrinkled and messy. The poor girl was overworked and stressed out, and it showed. Her blonde hair was swept back in a messy ponytail, her green eyes were two hours from being bloodshot, and she was forty shades paler than usual.

Beth and Noah met when he and Tara were still rookie cops. She stumbled upon a crime scene on her way home, and they were in the area. It was horrible, because Tara and Noah rock-paper-scissored to see who would get to take her statement. It wasn't at all professional, but in a race, Noah would have gotten there faster. It must have been fate, because for the first time he won with paper. He didn't talk to her with the intention of asking her out; he just liked friendly competition, and apparently when Tara lost, it was funny.

Anyway, Beth called him a couple days later to talk. She was unable to get the victim out of her head, and Noah helped her get over that. They met a week or so after so he could check in on her, and shortly after they began to date. They were good together, and their little boy was precious. Nathan was a complete surprise that came three years ago, as was the heartbreaking news that Tara was _not_ the godmother. Why should Beth's sister and her husband be the godparents? Okay, they were actually better suited. They already had a room for him when he stayed with them some nights, and they had more flexible schedules in case he got sick or broke something. All Tara had was a one room apartment that had an odd noodle odor, but every day smelled like Thai food. That's probably why Maggie and Glenn were the godparents.

Their backup godparents were Beth's actual parents, Hershel and Annette Greene. They were back in Georgia on a farm. Beth and Noah visited them some weekends when they could get time off. Sometimes Maggie and Glenn would take Nathan down there for a day or two when Maggie was feeling homesick. They were a close family, but Tara heard it took time for Hershel to accept both Glenn and Noah. She knew it wasn't a race issue, simply losing his baby girls to men he didn't properly know. He knew them now, of course, and they were family. Hershel was a good man and a good father. He'd have a stroke if he saw Beth right now. To spare him that, Tara needed to take action. In one second.

Tara crouched down and was instantly jumped by the three-year-old who always attempted to tackle her to the ground, and she lifted him up high in the air, making him giggle. Nathan wasn't as dark as his father or as pale as his mother; he was somewhere in the middle with his mother's eyes and his dad's hair. You could tell exactly who his parents were though. They could never pretend this kid wasn't theirs.

When she placed his feet on the ground, she ruffled his hair and said, "Better luck next time."

He huffed as if remembering he was trying to scare her and staggered off to play with his toys. Or plan for his next attack.

"He's such a handful," Beth commented. "Like his father."

"I don't doubt it." Tara removed her jacket. "You need sleep, Beth."

"I can't afford the luxury."

"It's not a luxury; it's a necessity." She followed her down the hall to the kitchen. "When did you eat last?"

"We had pizza an hour ago." She plopped down in a chair. "And chocolate milk."

"Or Nathan had pizza and chocolate milk, and you nibbled on crust."

"It's cheese-stuffed."

"Beth, that's not eating."

"I'm not hungry, and I have to take care of Nathan and Noah, and I have to figure out how we're going to afford to pay our bills. I was supposed to have time off to take care of Noah, but...my boss was an ass and fired me instead." She tossed aside what appeared to be a check book. "I haven't told Noah, and it's only adding to my stress. I think I'm going to explode."

"I've got this."

"No, I can't ask you to pay our bills." She shook her head. "I'll figure it out."

"No, I meant I'd help you get some sleep. I'll take Nathan out for dinner and ice cream, and he'll stay with me. I'll drop him off at Maggie's in the morning, and I'll call you before work to check on you two. I'll even call at a decent hour, so get some rest, and I'll talk to Noah when I talk to him."

"You'd do that?"

"I love Nathan, and I'm good with kids. I'm the cool aunt. I'll let him drink booze at my place when he's fifteen." She waggled her eyebrows, and Beth snickered. "Just say yes. Your eyes already are."

"Thank you." She pushed herself up and hugged her.

"Don't mention it." She rubbed her back. "You'll have to tell Noah about your job, you know."

"I will." She released her. "Once I get some rest and clean this place up, I'll tell him."

She nodded. "Do you want me to talk Nate now, and we can talk later?"

"It's up to you."

"No, I think it's been decided by the bags under your eyes," she remarked. "I'll take Nathan now."

"Okay. I'll pack his bag. Give me five minutes." She paused. "Noah's in bed right now. They gave him medication for the pain, and it knocks him right out. I should have said so on the phone, but I was drifting in and out."

"I figured he'd be out. I wanted to see you and the little monster who keeps trying to jump me." She glanced over her shoulder to make sure he wasn't about to strike before she leaned toward Beth to whisper, "Besides Noah told me, and you especially don't need this stress now."

"Thank you even more." She beamed. "I'll be back."

Tara spun around when Beth headed to her son's bedroom and caught Nathan about to jump off the arm of the couch to get her. She threw her arms out and ran after him. "I'm gonna get you!"

He took off giggling. "No, you're not!"

"Yes." She swooped down and grabbed him up. "Haha. I'm going to eat your brains." She ruffled his hair while he loudly laughed and struggled to escape. She laughed and set him down. "I'm still kinda hungry. You should work on getting smarter so I have more to eat."

He stuck his tongue out at her and collected a pillow from the couch to hit her with.

"Ow, what is this abuse?" She pretended to be down. "No, stop, the pain. I can't... I can't."

"Attack!" He charged at her and flopped down on the pillow he'd slapped down on her side.

She feigned an anguished groan. "Oh, my kidney." She slumped to her back. "I surrender."

He laughed and fell back onto the carpet. "I win!"

"For today." She pushed up on her elbows. "So, it's gonna be you and me tonight, okay? Mom and Dad need to talk, so you're staying with me. You okay with that?"

He seemed to think it over and nodded. "Okay. Will we see Aunt Maggie?"

"Is she really better than me? I have ice cream and video games. Isn't that enough for your little hyper mind?" She shook her head with him. "No? Well, that hurts me, Nate."

"Do you need a band-aid?" he offered.

"Yeah, hit me." She pushed up her sleeve and held her arm out to him. "I'll take Elsa."

He hopped up and ran to the kitchen then returned with the box of _Frozen_ themed bandages. He dumped the box out to look for any Elsas. Beth had bought them supposedly for him, but Noah and Tara could hear her humming the songs when she cooked. She was home with Nathan more than Noah, so she watched a lot of the same shows and movies. Tara once caught Beth crying to _Inside Out_ while Nathan watched with his face practically glued to the screen.

"Found one." He held it up.

"Thanks, buddy." She opened it and placed it randomly on her arm. "That feels a lot better. Good job." She high-fived him. "We should clean this up."

They collected the unopened bandages and stuffed them back in the box, Tara climbed to her feet and Nathan returned the box where it belonged like Mommy always told him to. Beth joined them with his superhero backpack that was used for sleepovers, and Beth handed it to Tara, spotting Elsa on her wrist.

"Did I miss something?" She grasped Nathan by the shoulders so he wouldn't dart through the house.

"Nope. I just wanted a hot chick on my arm for once."

Beth smiled. "Well, you two are cute together."

"I know. The blue really brings out my eyes."

"It does." She bent down and turned Nathan to face her. "Sweetie, you're staying with Tara tonight, okay?"

He nodded.

"Aunt Maggie's gonna take you tomorrow for a little bit, but you'll be back home for lunch." She hugged him. "I miss you already."

"Me too."

"I love you." She let him go and kissed him goodbye. "Listen to your aunts, okay? Be good."

"Okay, Mommy."

"Go kiss Daddy goodbye." She gave him a gentle push toward the door and straightened up. "You have all the numbers, right? For his doctor, and Maggie and Glenn?"

"It's on my fridge. Noah wrote it in permanent marker on the side the last time Nate stayed with me."

She nodded. "He's allergic to shrimp, and his throat swells, so be careful."

"Beth, calm down. I know the drill. We'll probably have hamburgers for dinner. Relax, breath—you're turning blue."

She inhaled deeply. "If you do have ice cream, make sure it's plain. No nuts or chucks of cookies or anything."

"Beth, I have a niece. Granted that I was an immature teenager when she was three, but I know the drill."

"You're right. I apologize." She folded her arms. "You'll have to make him brush his teeth. He doesn't like too, and Noah's no help. He's lenient with him, so you have to raise your voice, but not too much, or he'll think he's in trouble."

She gave a nod. "I'm going to put my jacket back on and wait for Nate by the door. You should head to bed now."

"If you know of any job openings, let me know."

"I will."

Beth dropped her arms to the side and ambled back to the bedroom, finding Noah semi-awake talking to Nathan. She lingered outside the bedroom until they were done then kissed the top of her son's head goodbye and climbed into bed with her husband. She wrapped her arm around his stomach and buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, and she felt his arm around her shoulders. She closed her eyes and cleared her mind of all thoughts, falling into a deep sleep.

Tara helped Nate with his shoes and jacket then led him to her car and set his bag on the floor. "See, my master plan worked." She had his car sat already set up. It was Meghan's old one, but it was in great condition, as was anything Lilly ever owned, and she buckled him in. "I have to make a pit stop before we get home. Is that okay with you?"

"Sure." He looked out the window.

"Good talk." She closed the door and walked around to the other side, minding the slippery road and getting in. She pulled out and drove to the station.

The conversation was a little lacking, as he was three and a bit difficult to understand sometimes, and Tara was hyper-aware of the road—she always was when she had a kid in the car—but she was sure he enjoyed the music. She was happy to have company, especially Nate's. He was such a sweetheart, and he could make everything lighter. She'd only been around him for half an hour and already she'd felt better than she had all week. He was an actual ray of sunshine. If she could figure out how to bottle him, she'd make millions.

"All right, do you want to stay in the nice warm car or come in with me?" She unbuckled her seat belt and glanced back. "Oh."

The heat must have knocked him out, because he was passed out. She shook her head and slipped out of the car, quietly shutting the door. She shivered at the cold and stepped on the sidewalk, spotting Denise exiting the station.

"What are you doing here?" Tara inquired.

"Just checking on Sasha." She tilted her head. "I didn't know you had a kid."

"When me and ex divorced, I got solo custody of Tommy."

"You didn't mention that at the session."

"I was joking. No, no, I kidnapped him at the gas station. Good ol' chloroform."

"That's...a joke too, isn't it?" Her voice was unsure, and Tara busted out laughing. "Definitely a joke."

"He's my partner's kid," she managed. "I'm babysitting."

"He's adorable."

"With his parents, it'd be hard for him not to be." She cleared her throat. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. Why?"

"Well, every time we meet, you're the only one who gets to ask."

"That's true, but we've only met for work. If you met me outside of work, it'd be different."

"Do you want to meet outside of work? Like for coffee?"

"Wait, what?" Denise met her eyes. "Coffee?"

"Yeah, coffee. There's something I want to talk to you about. Don't worry. Your romantic person doesn't have to worry; it's not a date."

"I don't have a romantic...person."

"Is that a yes then?" She squinted when sunlight reflected off the snow and caught her eye. "You're the only person I can talk to about this, and you're brilliant, so I know you can help. I'd suggest going now, but I have Nate, and it's getting too late for coffee."

"I'd be happy to help. You have my number, so let me know when and where."

"Okay, great." She smiled at her. "I'll see you later then."

"Yeah."

They parted ways, Tara spoke with the Captain for a bit then hustled back to the Nate who was still asleep and perfectly toasty in the car, and she took them home. It was after seven by the time they arrived, Nate woke up when the car stopped, and they headed inside together.

"Do you want to watch TV?" Tara closed her bedroom door, adjusting her ponytail. "Or a movie?"

Nathan was on the couch playing on her phone, and he shrugged.

"Great answer." She flicked the TV on and began to make dinner. "We're having some type of green tonight. I can hear your mom yelling at me if we don't."

"Blek!" He frowned.

"Too bad. It'll make you grow up big and strong."

"I don't wanna be big and strong."

"Yeah, I didn't believe that either when I was your age. I threw my greens on my sister's plate." She placed the ingredients on the counter. "How about we make a deal? You eat four pieces brussel sprouts, and we'll have hot fudge sundaes."

"Yeah!"

"Yeah!" She pushed up her sleeves and searched for the pans to cook dinner in. She bent down to search the cabinet, not sure where she put everything when she cleaned, and her mind wandered to Denise. She wondered why she was at the station that late. Tara didn't see Sasha. She could have been in the bathroom, but she was in there for a long time. Denise had no reason to lie, and they had the whole doctor-patient confidentiality thing. Denise wouldn't bring Tara up like that anyway. She wasn't the type, so why was Denise there?

It dawned on her how little she knew about Denise while Denise had gotten her entire life story. Well, most of it anyway. Maybe over coffee she could press her and learn a little more about her. Maybe she could learn why she was really visiting the station and who she saw. If it involved a case, Tara could help her. She would want to help her. Denise was a good person, and if she needed closure on a murder, Tara would be more than happy to help. No one should wonder if someone they love was alive or dead. She wouldn't push her, only check up on her from time to time, make sure she was okay. That was harmless, friendly even. Nothing could go wrong with that.


	4. Chill Out

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

Tare woke with a fist landing on her face, and she jolted. Realizing who the tiny fist belonged to, she relaxed and sat up, checking the time. It was going on eight. She rolled out of bed and splashed water on her face before getting dressed and waking Nate. She stopped by Maggie and Glenn's to drop Nate off, and she declined the offer to join them for breakfast. Maggie let Glenn take Nate up to the apartment, and she ran her eyes over Tara.

"Are you all right?"

"Why do people keep asking me that?" She expelled an exasperated sigh.

"You look like you haven't sleep in two months. That's why I'm asking." She searched her eyes. "Have you been sleeping?"

"I slept like a baby last night. I overslept, and I feel like shit because of that." She pushed her sunglasses back on. "I have to get to work. Call Beth for me. I forgot too."

"Okay."

Tara drove herself to work and nearly collapsed at her desk, burying her face in her overlapped arms. She rested for about two seconds before lifting her head to see what work she had today. She snuffled and pushed hair out of her face, logging into her computer.

"Could I speak to Detective Chambler?" A soft voice politely requested.

"Yeah, she's right over there." That was Grimes.

Tara rubbed her eye and dropped her hand at the sight of the girl standing on the other side of her desk. She had the same long blonde hair and braid, as well similar blue eyes as the suspect she'd killed a week and a half ago, and her throat tightened.

"Detective Chambler?"

"Y—yeah, that's me."

"I'm Mika Samuels," she remarked. "I'm the little sister of Lizzie Samuels."

"I kinda figured. You look alike."

She nodded. "I was wondering if I could talk to you."

"What about?"

"I wanna know what happened." She was wringing her hands. "My dad won't tell me, and he wouldn't let me watch the news or read about it in the papers. I wanna know what happened to my sister. I don't have access to a computer, but I do remember hearing your name. I heard a detective say your name when they came to our apartment."

"Honey, I think it'd be best if you listen to your father. You don't need to hear about all of that."

"I _do_ need to know. She's my sister, and _I'm the one_ who ratted her out. I have to know it was the right thing to do. My actions got her killed." Her face contorted with sorrow, and her voice broke. "Please, please, tell me it wasn't my fault."

"Oh, honey." She stood up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Come with me."

She guided the young girl to the lounge and sat her down. She handed her a box of tissues and bent down to be at eye level with her. "Okay, what do you mean by you ratted her out?"

Mika snuffled. "I—I'm the one who called in and told the police where she'd be."

"You? How did you know?"

"I—I had laundry duty that week, and I saw the—the gun in her bottom of her hamper. I—I recognized it. Our neighbor, Dale Horvath, had the same gun. He showed it to me when I asked how he feels safe living alone. He said it was a gift from his grandfather. He preferred the watch though. He wasn't gun friendly."

"Tell me about the gun, Mika."

"It was silver and shiny. I don't know about guns, so I don't know what it was. It was engraved. Um, it was something like remember, forget, try and conquer. There was a meaning behind it that Dale knew. Um, any way, there was no reason for Lizzie to have it, and when I asked her about, she threatened me. She said something bad would happen if I told anyone, and the next day...she—she killed him. She killed Dale!" Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she was trembling.

"It's all right, honey. Shh." Dale was only her second victim. Did he find out the gun was missing? Did he confront her? Did Lizzie kill him in an attempt to cover her tracks? God, that poor man.

"It's my fault the other three were murdered. If I hadn't been so scared, they might still be alive. I should have told Dad, but I didn't."

"Hey, hey, it is not your fault." She gripped her shoulders. "It will never be your fault. Lizzie wasn't mentally well, and nothing you did could have helped her."

"But when I did finally do something, it got her killed. _I_ got her killed."

"No, that isn't you either. Your sister shot a police officer, and she...she didn't listen when she was told to stop, told to lower the weapon. That's all on her, Mika, not you. It's not on you. And you stopped the killing when you called us. You saved her potential victims."

"Dad blames himself. He said he should have noticed her strange behavior sooner, that he should have done _something_. He didn't know about the rats in the basement, or the neighbor's cat. I did. I knew. I...saw what she did to them..." She tightened her grip on the tissue in her hand. "If I tell him I made that call, he'll hate me."

"No, he won't hate you."

"Yes, he will. I hate myself. I knew she was messed up, but I didn't do anything! I—I got her killed. My sister! That's all I did!"

"Mika, you didn't pull the trigger. You didn't have anything to do with it."

"I'm the one who put the police on her trail. It was the right thing to do, but they were supposed to stop her! All they did was kill her! I didn't want her dead. She was my sister, and it's my fault she was in that situation."

Tara's heart ached for her. "I'm sorry, Mika. I am so, so sorry."

She hiccuped and wiped at her face. "Why are you sorry?"

"Mika, who do you think shot your sister?"

"I don't know who did it. I know an officer was injured and that he's okay now, but that's it."

"I'm the one who shot Lizzie." Tara couldn't look at her. "She ran down the street and was halfway through the alley when she stopped running. She shot my partner in the shoulder and was about to kill him, but...I fired first and the bullet entered at her forehead. I didn't mean to kill her. I followed my training, and—"

"It was you?"

"God, I am so sorry." She tried to keep the tears from her eyes, but she couldn't. "If I could go back and redo it, I would. But I can't, and all I can say is I'm sorry."

Mika didn't say anything for a moment, but then she rose out of the chair. "Thank you for telling me the truth."

Tara lifted her head, tears rolling down her cheeks, and she tried to hold it together. She stood up and reached for the girl. "I'm sorry, Mika. I—"

Mika ran out of the lounge before Tara could finish, Tara fell forward on her knees and buried her face in her hands, and Michonne peered inside to see what the hell happened to make that little girl bolt out of here. She saw Tara on the floor sobbing and dropped to her knees beside her, and Tara coiled up. Michonne embraced her with one arm and shushed her gently, like she would one of her kids, and Tara shook violently in her arms.

Michonne held tighter to Tara as she wailed, falling against her, and she closed her eyes at the sound. She couldn't imagine what was going on inside of Tara, and she didn't want to. She was a mother of three, and she never wanted to lose any of her children. She wanted to paved a future that would be brighter and safer for them. Tara's reasons were similar. How do you create a brighter future for your family and for children when one of those children you were trying to keep safe was actually one of the people you had to put away? How do you move on? How do you look at the smiling faces of her niece and her niece's friends and not wonder if one day soon they'll pick up a weapon and end someone else's life for no other reason then why not?

Sasha saw Grimes and Chambler in the lounge and let Michonne calm Tara down. She picked up her phone and called Denise. This might be a good time to get Tara to open up. Sasha sat down as the phone rang and ran a hand through her hair, squeezing her eyes shut, seeing Tara shaking and crying on the floor. She couldn't do anything more to help her, and she felt like she was letting Tara down. After all Tara had done for her, there wasn't a damn thing beyond calling someone else to talk to her that she could do. Christ.

– – –

Denise came as soon as she could, Tara was sitting with Michonne in the lounge, and she wasn't crying anymore. Rosita had given a Tara time off starting now, and they had called Lilly to take her home. However she was caught up at work, and she couldn't leave. She apologized many times and asked them to apologize to Tara for her. They understood how demanding her job was too, and they decided that Sasha would take her home.

"I'll take her home," Denise offered. "You guys have a case to work, and I'm free until noon. I'll get her home."

"Are you sure?" Rosita asked. "It won't impose?"

"If it would, I wouldn't have offered. We can talk her place. She'll be more comfortable with less eyes on her and in an atmosphere where she's most relaxed." She looked in on Tara and Michonne. "Do you know what triggered her?"

"Yes. Lizzie's little sister came and inquired on the details of the shooting."

"That would do it." She sighed. "I'll take her home now. Where are her car keys? And I'll need her address."

"I'll get them and her coat."

Denise entered the lounge, Michonne stood Tara up and guided her over to Denise, and she offered her a warm smile. Tara didn't return it, and they walked her out toward the door. Rosita joined them with her belongings and directions to her home, informing Grimes and Williams that someone was here to see them about their case, and they were about to go their separate ways when a man rushed over to them.

"Which one of you is Detective Chambler?" he demanded.

"Why do you want to know?" Denise calmly inquired.

"Because my daughter has locked herself in her bedroom, crying her eyes out, after speaking to this Detective Chambler. She won't talk to me or her grandmother."

Tara lifted her eyes. "Is she okay?"

"I don't really know. She won't talk to me or anyone, and she tells her grandmother everything. What the hell did that son of a bitch say to her? How can you even discuss the details of a case with a minor?"

"I didn't—discuss the case. I only said—"

"It was you? You're Detective Chambler?" he cut her off. "Why the hell would you tell a twelve-year-old girl who is already heartbroken and mourning that you shot and killed her sister? For some reason she already blames herself, and now she knows exactly how her sister died! I didn't want that! I wanted her to find peace and to move on! Not linger on the details, not...like me."

Michonne and Sasha both moved in front of Tara when the man stepped closer, Denise had shifted slightly so her body was covering Tara's, and Tara lowered her eyes to the floor.

"You killed one of my daughters, and now you...give the other one a mental breakdown? Is that what you were going for?"

"Sir, you need back up," Sasha commanded. "Right this second."

"You know how ruin someone's life, that's for damn sure." He scoffed and shook his head. "I hope you're happy." He stormed out of the station.

"I'll take her home now." Denise set a hand on Tara's back and made sure Mr. Samuels was gone before leading her out of the building. "I know where you live, so we won't get lost."

Tara may have nodded, but Denise couldn't be sure. She started her car and drove her home. The ride was silent, and she caught Tara picking at her coat. She wondered if Tara picked to distract herself. She did it during their session as well. She didn't know how picking at her jeans or her coat could relieve the breakdown building up inside of her. If she didn't start to talk honestly, that's where she was heading, and Denise didn't want to see that. It broke her heart to see the light vanish from Tara's eyes, and she hoped that she could help her through this. She would do everything she could. No one should be forced to swallow their emotions, even if that's how they cope. She would pry it out of Tara if she had to.

––

Tara plopped down on the couch when Denise unlocked her apartment, Denise set their coats on the back of the chair and Tara wrapped a blanket around herself, likely freezing as the heat wasn't turned on in the apartment. Denise found the thermostat and flipped on the heat.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" Denise murmured.

"What's to talk about? You know all the details already."

"I don't know how you feel," Denise stated. "I don't know how you're processing any of this. You tell me enough, but that isn't going to help you in the long run."

"What do you know?"

"I know you're sinking into depression. You may not realize it, but I can tell. All I want to do is help you, so why are you fighting me? Fighting your friends? What's the real problem here, Tara?"

"There is no problem here. Of course I'm upset after seeing the little sister of a serial killer. She was 12 and crying and confused and full of self-loathing. I partly caused that, so yeah, I got upset. It's passed."

"Only for now. What happens next time? Say, when you're on duty? Breaking down like that will be the end of your career. Possibility even your life, or your partner's life. Or a hostage's life," she snapped. "You have good friends and a good captain who are trying to look out for you, but you won't accept their help or mine! Are you afraid of looking weak? Because it's not weak to seek help."

"All you had to do was drive me home. Guess what? I'm home. You can show yourself out." She averted her eyes.

Denise scoffed. "You're being childish about this."

"It's my apartment, and I didn't invite you in to begin with."

"Fine. You want me to leave? I'll leave. But I am coming back to check on you."

"Thanks for the heads up, Doc."

Denise shook her head and cleared out of Tara's apartment, thinking how she could get her to open up as she padded down the steps.

Tara pulled her legs in and closed her eyes. She knew Denise was just doing her job, and she was good at that, but she couldn't deal with this right now. Not after Mika and Ryan. She would apologize about her behavior later. Denise didn't deserve that. She was only trying to help. Tara was never good at accepting help. She didn't want a crutch. She wanted to stand on her own two feet and handle whatever life threw at her. The shooting was a massive shit storm life threw her way, and she had to work through that. Maybe not alone, but she had to try. If she failed, she could hope Denise would be there to listen then.

– – –

"You're going out tonight?" Lilly rummaged through Meghan's drawers. "With Holly? Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I need to do something. I'm too familiar with everything on Netflix. Besides I thought you wanted me to have a life."

"I do."

"Then be supportive."

"I'm trying."

"What are you doing right now?"

"Looking for my blouse. Meghan's borrowed it, and I need it."

"How is Meg?"

"She's busy lately. She has a report due in a couple days, so I dropped her off at the library." She rubbed the back of her neck. "I should go pick her up now, but let me know how your date goes."

"Lilly, are you all right? You sound weird. Hesitant even."

"Meghan got her belly button pierced last night."

"What?" Tara exclaimed. "How the hell did she do that? She's fourteen!"

"Apparently one of the senior's brother's has a shop, and he did it for her, no questions asked." Lilly exhaled and ran her hand through her hair.

"Did she get a tattoo? Or anything else?"

"No, no, just the piercing."

"Tell me who? I'll find a way to shut his place down."

"Tara, don't. She didn't tell me anything more. She's pissed at me, and I have no idea how to talk to her. I feel like I'm speaking to a wall."

"Do you want me to talk to her?"

"No, no. Let me handle my own daughter. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. You have a date tonight, and you don't need this on your mind. Have a good time. Don't worry about me or Meghan. I love you. Bye." She hung up.

"Love you too." Tara set her phone on the counter and checked the time. She had to meet Holly in twenty minutes. She didn't have time to chase after Meghan. She didn't know what the hell was going through Meghan's mind. A piercing? Why would she even want one? She never even hinted at it. She didn't even like having her ears pierced, but Lilly made that decision for her when she was a baby. Was this the beginning, or has it started long before and she was only now hearing about it? Would Lilly hide this from her? If she would, why? So she couldn't question Lilly's parenting abilities? Sometimes teenagers did stupid things that they regret, and it didn't matter how amazing your parenting skills were. There were other factors, like peer pressure and crushes on older boys.

Lilly should know better than anybody what having a crush on an older guy will do to you. She and Meghan's father who shall remain nameless were wild. She was nineteen, and he was twenty-two. He almost destroyed her entire life in one week. If Dad hadn't intervened when he did, Lilly would be strung out on drugs or dead instead of being a mother and nurse. Well, because of Dad and discovering she was pregnant. Without them though, Tara would be an only child, and Meghan might not exist. If Meghan was under the influence of an asshole older student, she was on the same path as Lilly. Dad wasn't here to stop her, so Tara had to step up.

She called Denise on her way to her car. "Denise? Hey, it's me."

"Who's me exactly?"

"Sorry, Tara. Tara Chambler."

"Oh. I'm sorry I can't talk right now. I have company."

"I'll be quick."

"It's not a good time. I'm sorry. Call me again tomorrow. Preferably in the morning. Goodbye."

"What?" She stared at her phone as the dial tone buzzed at her. Where did all the phone etiquette go? She stuffed her phone in her pocket and shrugged it off. She had a date in a few minutes anyway, and Denise had company. Company? Who was company to her? She would have said it was her brother. Did she have friends outside Sasha and Rosita? She would have mentioned if they were her company. Oh, what if she had a date too? That would explain it. She could have just said. She didn't have to be rude and hang up on her. She did say goodbye but still.

She halted. What if she was just repaying Tara's curtness? It was petty and not like Denise, but that could be it. She could be pissed at her. With how treated her, she would be pissy too. It wasn't her fault she was in a sour mood, and it wasn't right for her to take it out on Denise. She would forgive her for rudeness over the phone. Maybe her company was important. Maybe her company wasn't. Either way, when they saw each other next, Tara did need to apologize. Maybe Denise would actually forgive her. She suspected Denise wouldn't forgive her until Tara was completely open with her.

––

Lilly picked up Meghan from the library, and when they got home, Lilly stood by the door as Meghan dropped her backpack on the floor and removed her coat. Her eyes instantly fell to the items on the table, and her eyes sliced into her mom's.

"What the hell? You went through my stuff!"

"Your stuff?" Lilly repeated. "Seeing as your fourteen and can't purchase cigarettes, they aren't yours. And language!"

"Oh, my God. Really?"

"Yes, I did go through your belongings. I was trying to find a blouse you borrow without permission."

"I didn't borrow anything of yours! And those aren't mine. They're my friends. He can smoke. He's eighteen."

"Why do you have cigarettes that aren't yours?"

"He asked me to hold them. He's a nice guy. He helped me on my first day of school to find my classes. I wanted to return the favor. I don't smoke. I'm not stupid enough to smoke. I promised Grandpa I wouldn't touch those things." She crossed her arms. "I hid them because I knew you would freak out on me. Like you did last night. Like you are now!

"You got your belly button pierced at someone's house! Don't act like it was eating the last of the mint chocolate chip ice cream! For Christ's sake, you're being so irresponsible lately." Her voice continued to rise in volume. "Of course I'm going to be upset. It wasn't even sanitary, Meghan. What the hell were you thinking?"

"It's my body. You said I could it when I was sixteen anyway, so what's the big deal?"

"You're fourteen, you don't know that his equipment was clean, and you didn't have my permission. You may be in high school, little girl, but you're still a kid—my kid. Don't you realize how immature and careless you're being? And for what?"

"Isn't that the definition of kid? Immature and careless? Irresponsible?" She chuckled under her breathe. "Christ, you need to loosen up. I know Randall and his brother well enough to know they wouldn't try to hurt me."

Lilly set her jaw. "You're grounded for the next two weeks. You'd better hope you have no more school reports, because you're not leaving this house unless it's for school."

"What?! That's crap!"

"Go to your room. You have to clean it up anyway." She snatched the pack of cigarettes and lighter off the table and locked the front door. "And consider any plans you've made canceled. Including Carl's birthday party."

"He's a cop's kid. What trouble could I possible get into there?" she snapped. "Michonne and Rick wouldn't let any drugs or booze or whatever you're paranoid about slip in, and Lori's stricter than you!"

"Too bad. I'll give his gift from you to Tara, so she can give it to Michonne."

"Thanks, Mom. Thanks a lot." She dashed to her room and slammed the door as hard as she could.

Lilly heaved a sigh and was tempted to smoke this entire pack, but she tossed it instead. She picked up a pillow, buried her face in it and lied down on the couch, groaning. God, why did it only get harder to be a parent? This only the beginning, she knew. Meghan would only get worse from here on out if she was anything like her mother. Or father even. God, she wished her father was here to give advise or at least to make her laugh. She didn't have anybody to turn too. Well, maybe she did. If they weren't too busy with their own kids, that was.

She felt for the phone and shifted onto her side, calling Michonne. It was longer after school let out, so she should be home. Dealing with a three year old was kind of a handful, but Carl helped. Andre tried. He was a good kid, quiet, and he took after his mom. He'd come out of his shell quite a bit since Rick came in to his life. Rick was a good father to Andre, and to Judith and Carl as well. Lori and he had joint custody of Judith and Carl, so they went back and forth, but they made it work. Lori and Rick ended on poor terms, but Michonne and she became friends, and eventually she and Rick were less antagonistic. They were nowhere near being friends, but they weren't enemies, so props to Michonne, the damn miracle worker. Maybe she could come over and straighten Meghan out. She'd have to ask, but she knew Michonne would go all sage and basically tell her to mom up and do it herself. She hoped Michonne would give her some tips on how to that.

– – –

The entire date was spent with Tara asking this woman to repeat herself, because she worrying about her niece. Tara felt so shitty, and Holly could tell she was distracted. She tried to push it to the back of her mind, but she was too concerned and angry at herself. She hadn't seen the signs of her niece rebelling. She hadn't seen the signs of Lilly's distress. She was too preoccupied drowning in her own issues, trying to get out of desk duty and back to following leads on the latest homicide. She was so distracted by her own things, and she wasn't helping anybody. She knew Lilly was a good mom. She knew that. Lilly just needed a hand. All of her life, she'd had Dad to turn to, but he was gone. They had to turn to each other, find their inner Dad and make it work. They had to help Meghan through the angry and resentment, and just be there for her. She needed them, needed guidance. Perhaps professional guidance.

Holly could see that Tara's mind was elsewhere, so the date ended relatively quickly. They hadn't even gotten to dinner or ordering yet. They had bread and water, and a one-sided conversation that Tara had no clue what it consisted of. Holly said when Tara wasn't so deeply engaged with her thoughts, they could try again, but honestly Tara was glad it worked out this way. She needed to focus on more important things, like family and herself, before she got involved with someone. Meghan needed her and her mother, and Tara needed them.

––

She ambled the streets once she and Holly said their goodbyes, hands stuffed in her pockets and her mind wondering to the last few days with Meghan. She hadn't noticed anything wrong. She had spent hours with her and laughed with her and teased her, but it was regular Meghan. That was all she saw. Rather that was all Meghan allowed her to see. How could have missed the signs? What were the signs even? She had known Meghan all her life, and she didn't see the mask she wore around her. How could she have missed it? Was she too busy drowning in her shit to not see Meghan burying herself in hers?

She kicked at the snow piled beside her foot and somehow lost her balance and fell. She wanted to groan, but she laughed instead. Of course she would fall on her ass in the middle of the night alone on a sidewalk. Of course that would happen to her. If it started to hail, she wouldn't stunned. It would be the highlight of her crappy night.

"Are you okay?"

She looked up and blinked. "Denise?"

"Well, your memory seems to be intact." She bent down. "I didn't see you fall. You were just down when I rounded the corner."

"I fell, but I didn't get back up yet. What are you doing here?"

"I live on this street, remember?" She adjusted the bag in her arms. "What are you doing here?"

"Just taking a walk."

"This isn't how I take a walk, but to each his own, I suppose." She offered her a smile and straightened. "I have to get back, but be careful."

"Get back to what?"

"To my apartment. It's getting colder, and I have to be in bed before ten. I have an early start. You should get home too."

"You aren't even going to try to help me up?"

"My hands are full, and you're capable." She smiled. "Have a nice night, Tara."

"I'll remember this!"

She sighed, set her bag down and offered Tara her hand. "Well?"

Tara clasped her hand and clambered to her feet. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Do you need anything else?"

"No. I should get home like you said."

Denise paused. "I'm sorry about how brusque I was earlier. I had a guest, and it's complicated."

"Complicated how? Complicated like your ex wanted to talk about your relationship, or complicated like the child you gave up in college found you? Or, you know, complicated like I have no idea what I'm talking about and should shut up, because I've offended you?"

Denise chuckled. "It's none of those things, I assure you. It's personal, and I don't want to drag you into it."

"I dragged you into my personal stuff. Well, you dragged yourself in, but I somewhat allowed it." She dusted snow off her butt. "It's your job to listen to everyone's problems, but who listens to yours?"

"I'm considering getting a pet."

"C'mon, Doc, open up to me. I've had a crummy day, and hearing about your awkward night might cheer me up."

"Well, let me just start talking."

She laughed. "C'mon, what's the harm? We get to know each other?"

"The harm is I just helped you stand up, and my dinner's getting cold in the snow." She collected the bag and wiped the snow off the bottom. "And I don't think it's appropriate."

"Because you're kinda my therapist?"

"I take my job seriously, Tara. Beside you barely talk to me about your problems, so why should I talk to you about my problems?"

"Okay, there's nothing inappropriate about being friends, and I _will_ talk to you someday. It's not today or tomorrow, because I want to try and work this out myself. If I can't, I'll come talk to you. It'll be easier for me to talk to a friend."

Denise studied her silently.

"I'm sorry about what I said to you when you brought me home. I'm grateful you went out of your way to help me, and I'm sorry for being such an ass. You didn't deserve that, and it won't happen again." Tara poked her dinner bag. "In any case, your bag has a hole in it, and you can't juggle the containers and unlock your front door at the same time. I've tried and my feet took a noddle bath."

"I feel like you're doing this for my food."

"Maybe. I had a date an hour or so ago, but I've had Mentos that's have lasted longer. I'm bummed out, and you looked bummed out, so let's be bummed out together, okay?"

She laughed. "Fine, okay, we can. Give me a hand?"

"Two actually." She carefully accepted the bag from Denise and fell into step beside her, asking her how her day was on the way to the steps to her apartment. She was glad to have run into her. She didn't want to be alone for the rest of the night, and she had some questions about Meghan. She was curious about the complication in Denise's life as well. If her mood or Denise's moods happened to improve during the course of their conversation then good. It would save tonight from being an utter crapfest. Of all people to run into tonight, she was happy it was Denise.


	5. Something In Common

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

––

They ended up talking all night. It was refreshing to be able to talk about herself without feeling pressured or studied, and it was likely because that was what she did all day. Tara was easy to talk to, and she could be solemn when she wanted to be. Denise hadn't laughed so much in one night in far too long, and she felt closer to Tara. She had few good friends, and she was strangely happy to add Tara to that list. Well, she was getting there.

They had fallen asleep around two in the morning after a couple glasses of wind and talking about nothing in particular. Denise had drifted off on one side of the couch, Tara on the other with a blanket shared between them to keep the warm, and their legs were tangled together underneath. They slept late into the morning and were only woken up by the sound of keys in the door, and Denise jolted when it was shut with a slam.

"Sorry," a man whispered.

Denise moaned and buried her face in her arms at her brother. "Mmm."

Tara exhaled and rolled over, hitting the back of the couch. She felt around and opened her eyes, pushing herself into a sitting position. She remembered then what had happened last night.

"Oh," Dennis remarked. "I'm _really_ sorry."

"Don't." Denise waved him toward the kitchen. "Go."

"Is someone hungover?" he joked.

"Ooh, bite me." She lifted her head. "I thought you'd be back before morning."

"No. I had to work late, and I fell asleep at my desk." He nodded to Tara. "Good morning."

"It's only a good morning if you brought coffee," she replied before holding her hand out. "Tara Chambler."

"Dennis Cloyd." He shook her hand. "I'm your girlfriend's older brother."

"It's nice to meet you, Dennis." She cleared her through. "Although I'm not her girlfriend."

"Sorry. I don't... I shouldn't have assumed. I'm still new to this." He gestured between them. "Been a couple years, but every time it's like whoa!"

"Yeah, it's new to me too." Tara peeked at Denise over her shoulder. "I didn't know you and I had that in common."

"Sadly, I'm too lazy to sew rainbow hearts in all my clothes too." Her smile was lopsided and adorable.

"Not to interrupt, but it's ten in the morning in case either of you have plans or jobs," Dennis commented.

"Thanks, Dennis." Denise carefully freed her legs from Tara's. "I have to get ready for work. You can stay and eat me out of house and home like my brother."

Tara looked at Dennis who had already helped himself to their leftovers. "I'll walk you out. I have to check on my niece and sister later."

She nodded and disappeared into her bedroom.

"Are you interested in my sister?" Dennis studied Tara. "Because I'm letting you know now I have a zero tolerance policy for people who hurt my sister."

"Ditto." She gathered her shoes. "But we're just friends, and even if we did date and break up, I wouldn't hurt her. She's a good person."

He opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. "If you do date her, make her buy pop. She never has any, because she doesn't like, but I do. Even if you're just friends, pressure her to buy pop."

"I'll try. We don't shop together, but I'll try." She slipped her boots on and carried the blanket they'd used to the hall closet Denise had gotten it from. She folded it up and set it inside. She sat down on the arm of the couch to wait for Denise. "So, are you staying here with her?"

"Just for a couple days. My place had fire damage, but it should be taken care of by the end of the week. It wasn't extensive."

"That's good." She nodded.

"It is. I was lucky. My neighbor wasn't. He started the fire, so it makes sense. I'm just glad it didn't spread any further."

There was a moment of silence, Dennis was sliding out food onto a plate to warm it up, and Tara tucked hair behind her ear, wondering where her hair tie went. She scanned the living room, but it wasn't in sight. It was probably in the couch, or she'd toss it somewhere. She'd have to ask Denise to keep an eye out for it. It was her last one. She wasn't fond of hair clips. She could steal one from Meghan when she checked in.

Her eyes fell back on Dennis. "So, uh, where did you and Denise grow up?"

"Ohio. We—"

"I'm ready." Denise handed Tara her coat. "It's pretty late in the day. I don't want to keep anyone else waiting."

Tara accepted her coat and exchanged a glance with Dennis. "Yeah, okay."

"I'll see you for lunch, Dennis, if you're still hungry by then. Don't touch anything on the second shelf. I mean it this time."

"Have a good day." He waved goodbye to them.

Denise locked up and shook her head. "I should put nuts in all of my food. He's allergic. It's cruel, but so is working all day and thinking I have food at home when I really don't because he ate it."

"I don't have any brothers."

"You're not missing much." She wrapped her scarf around her neck.

"Why'd you rush out and cut him off?"

"Because Dennis thinks it's hilarious to tell people about the most embarrassing days of my life. That's the last thing I want you to hear about me, and if you did hear, I'd want to be the one to tell you."

"I didn't know you cared about my opinion of you so much."

She flushed and avoided eye contact. "Well, I do."

Those words brought a smile to Tara's lips. "I can give you a lift to work. My car's parked close by."

"I'd like that."

"I enjoyed myself last night," Tara told her. "It was nice to see you like that."

"Like what?" Denise moistened her lips.

"Like yourself. You weren't trying with every fiber of your being to help me through my shit, and you were fun. I haven't had such a good time since I was like twenty-five."

"What happened?"

"I met my last girlfriend, and she slowly ruined my life." She shuddered at the icy breeze that blew at them. "I haven't been in a relationship since. Lilly tried to set me up with one of her friends, but I was too worried about Meghan. I kept asking her to repeat herself like an ass. I owe her coffee for that lousy excuse of a date."

"At least you had a decent night after," Denise reminded her. "You...made me feel better, if that helps with your guilt."

"It does."

"Do you still want to have coffee?" Denise stopped by Tara's car. "I'd like to."

"Yeah, of course. I'll call tonight or tomorrow morning to let you know what time and where. I know this great little cafe that has great donuts and coffee. Do you like donuts?"

"Who doesn't?"

"True." She unlocked the doors. "Dennis told me you don't like pop, so I wanted to be sure it wasn't a whole abhorrence of sugar."

"Of course he did. Let me guess: he wants you to pressure me into buying some."

"Yeah."

"I'm tempted to just buy it so he'll stop asking, but I don't want to give in at the same time. He has his own money, and he's the only one who drinks it at my place. It'd go the waste when he leaves."

"I could come by and drink it for him."

"I let you stay over twice and already you've made yourself at home," she joked.

"That's pretty much my entire personality. Ask Noah. I went over to his house in high school and on the second visit, I invited myself to dinner. By the third visit, I was making pizza rolls and eating their chips."

"You're not lying, are you?"

"I'm not. His mom loved me, so that helped with me feeling at home there. She had me over all the time. Mostly because Noah was active in school stuff, and I wasn't. I think she liked me more than him, but don't tell him I said that. He already thinks she loves the twins more."

"Well, that's good to know." She laughed. "I won't say a word."

Tara dropped Denise at her office, the conversation revolving around the weather and some things they had said last night. She'd had a good time with Denise, and she couldn't remember when she'd had such a good time. Likely before Nate was born. Noah couldn't go out with her much, because Beth needed a hand with Nate sometimes. He had to help around the house, and he had a mandatory dinner he had to attend at his parents' with Beth and Nate once or twice a month as well. That left little time to go out for a drink or to just talk. The most she'd seen him out of work for anything were Nate's birthdays, Beth's birthdays and holidays. Still the fun was mostly adolescent, because of the child. She loved Nate, and they were good parents, but sometimes having a couple drinks wasn't the end of the world. Even Lilly had a drink now and then, but she was her sister, and she wasn't that great to hang around with drunk. She wasn't a good drunk and an incredible lightweight too. She was happy to have gotten closer to being friends with Denise, to having someone to speak with who could but wasn't silently analyzing her every sentence was good company.

The station was busy today, phones ringing like crazy, and Tara wondered what had happened. She knew she couldn't be involved with field work, but she hoped she could be know what was going on. She just had trouble finding someone who wasn't taking a statement, or on the phone, or checking to see if results had come in on something submitted to the lab. She would have gone directly to the Captain; however, her door was shut, the blinds to her office were closed, and that meant she was in a meeting. Tara didn't want to interrupt. She would hear what was going on eventually.

––

An hour had passed, everything had become calmer, but Tara was still in the dark. She was doing her usual work, straining to overhear what the hell had happened, but nobody was talking about it. Sasha and Monroe were going over witness statements, and Grimes headed out with Lerner to follow a lead. She had even overheard Sasha canceling date night with her husband, and she knew why but at the same time she didn't. How could they manage to avoid the main subject when that was all they were discussing?

"Just a few more days," she muttered to herself. "Just a few more days." And desk duty was over. She just needed to hold on for a few more days.

Sasha rose from her desk. "Hey, Tara, do you want anything? I'm gonna grab some lunch."

"I'd love to know what the hell is going on," she replied.

"Our perpetrator left two bodies this time. They weren't his usual type, but it was his torture. Right down to the rope bindings and branding marks."

"So, not a copy cat?"

"We didn't release that information for anyone to copy." She crossed her arms. "It's going to be a long night."

"I bet Mr. Williams is upset."

Sasha smirked. "He had planned dinner for tonight, so yeah. He's a bit disappointed, but he understands. Besides when this asshole is behind bars, I intend to make it up to him."

"I don't want any details, but thanks. I'll just have whatever your having. I'm not picky." She stretched. "And a large coffee. Like the biggest coffee you can find that won't kill me."

"I know a place." She nodded. "Try not to have fun without me."

"I'll mess with something on your desk, and you won't know until it's too late. Don't mess with me, Williams-Stookey."

"Why do you add the hyphen when you're being serious with me?"

"Why did you get added hyphen Stookey on your name?"

Sasha scrunched her nose. "Fine. I'm getting coffee and lunch, just remember that. I could always get decaf."

"Please, don't!" Tara called after her. "Sasha."

She didn't reply, but Tara heard laughter. She trusted Sasha wasn't cruel enough to actually get her decaf. She hadn't had a decent cup of coffee all day, because she'd forgotten to make a pot when she drove home to change. She had breakfast, but she forgot coffee. That was the most important drink of the day, and she forgot it. She wasn't tired this morning, so she didn't think about it. She hadn't had that much energy since last year. Denise's couch gave her a full eight hours. Or maybe just having company did. Or the wine. She wasn't sure which it was, but she was pleased to have gotten the sleep. She only wished she'd remembered to make coffee.

– – –

"Do you know how boring desk duty is?" Tara plopped down on the couch, enjoying her day off. It wasn't going to take a day off from desk duty, but it was frigging great to give her fingers a rest and her head. She had such a headache by the time yesterday was over, she crawled into bed and didn't move until ten this morning. She had to call Denise today. "Any idea?"

"Do you know how boring being home recovering is?" Noah questioned. "Maggie and Glenn babysit Nate, and Beth's in and out."

"Just watch TV like a normal person."

"We don't have a TV in the bedroom."

"Then go to the living room."

"I did. There's nothing on, and I've read most of the books in the house. Some are Beth's, and they aren't my kind of books, so I won't read them."

"Noah, are you asking me to come over and keep you entertained?"

"No."

"Noah."

"Yes. I'm about to jump out the window for entertainment."

"Give me ten minutes. I have a call to make before I grace you with my company."

"I'll see you then."

"Bye." She hung up and swung off the couch. She called Denise as she stuffed her keys in her pocket and slipped into her coat, and she got voicemail. She tried again, and Denise picked up on the first ring. "Hey."

"Who is this?"

"I—it's me. Uh, Tara."

"I was kidding."

"It's kinda hard to tell. You should work on that."

"Have you decided on a time when we'll have coffee?" Denise inquired. "Or were you just calling to help me with my sarcasm?"

"Both, but mostly the first one."

"Should I write this down, or will I know the place?"

"You'll know it. It's that small shop by the station. I told you the coffee is great, so is the food. I have breakfast there on the weekends, and they know me by name. They're usually busy, but not so much at one. I think it's because people know they're out of most of their baked goods and are baking fresh ones. I know the chief, and she'll put a few aside for us."

"Okay. So, at one?"

"Yeah. We can talk there, or come back to my place. It doesn't matter."

"Well, it's up to you where we go. I don't mind staying, but it's okay if we go back to your place."

Tara leaned against the counter. "You're awfully eager to get back in my apartment, Ms. Cloyd."

"N—no, I didn't mean to sound eager. I didn't want you to think I didn't want to go back to your place. I'm not eager, not that your apartment isn't something to be..." she trailed off and exhaled. "I only meant I don't care where we go. If it's your apartment or the coffee place, it's fine."

Tara laughed. "I knew that. I was just teasing you."

"Yeah, I figured that out."

"Are you blushing?"

"No."

"I bet you are."

"Don't you have other things to do? Things that don't involve harassing me."

"I have to entertained my partner, so I should be going."

"Before you go, how is Noah?"

"He's bored, but he's healing. He should be back at it in a few weeks. The bullet didn't do any damage—it was through and through. He's lucky."

"Sounds like it."

"I guess the kid was one hell of a shot."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I have hit the road, but I'll see you tomorrow at one. It'll be on me, by the way, okay?"

"What? No, I'll pay for my own food."

"Nope, it's already been decided."

"Tara, that's not fair. You'll make me feel guilty. I'll just pay for myself."

"Too bad. You'll just have to make it up to me somehow."

"By paying for my own food and drink."

"Nope. I have to go. Don't you dare try to pay for anything tomorrow. Goodbye."

"Goodbye." She quickly utter, "I will" before hanging up.

Tara shook her head and set her phone down. Good luck trying. She locked her apartment up and padded down the stairs to her car. She pulled out to go visit her partner.


	6. Donuts And Coffee Talk

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

"Wow, there is nothing on TV." Tara flicked it off and peered over at Noah. "Do you have any good movies?"

"We don't have any good movies. Most of them are kid movies, or seasons of kid's shows." He sighed. "You should have brought a movie. I don't know why I didn't ask you to."

"Still on meds?"

He smiled. "Yeah, but I haven't taken any today. Unless Beth slipped it into something I ate."

"Your wife sounds shady if she did that."

"She's not shady."

"Want me to run a background check on her? Make sure she's not crazy?" Tara joked.

"How was your day?" he changed the subject.

"Our serial struck again, only he doubled the order and threw the profile we'd built out the window." She stretched out on the couch. "I have coffee with Denise tomorrow, and I think Sasha did give me decaf yesterday with my lunch."

"You have coffee with Denise? The therapist?"

"Yeah, I have need to talk to her about Meghan."

"Whoa, what's going on with Meghan?" He met her eyes. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, it's teenager stuff. I hope. If it's not, Denise can help. She's good with people, and Meghan can...talk to her, maybe."

"Teenager stuff equals therapist?" He scoffed. "C'mon, Tara, I know you better than that. For you to consider suggesting to Lilly that she have Meghan see Denise means it has to be serious. What happened?"

"She's being reckless, starting to self-destruct, and Lilly can't stop it. They haven't even spoken to each other since Lilly asked her about cigarettes she found in her room. I have to do something, because Lilly's drowning in work, and Meghan has a babysitter." She leaned forward. "This woman used to babysit me before Lilly learned how to care for a toddler. She's been around for decades, and I think she's immortal. She stopped aging fifteen years ago, Noah."

He snorted a laugh. "What?"

"She's had the same face for fifteen years. She hasn't gained or lost any wrinkles, and I'm not sure how old she is. I asked her once, saying I'd get her a birthday cake, and she laughed."

"I've never seen this woman."

"Her name is Jeanette. I'll show you when we check on Lilly tomorrow night."

"We're checking Lilly? When did we make those plans?"

"I want to make sure she's okay, and she'll want to see you. She hasn't seen you were in the hospital, and she could use some good company."

He nodded. "Okay. I think Glenn and Maggie are keeping Nate for the night, and Beth has to work late, so yeah."

"Beth's working late?" Tara questioned, and he nodded. "Where?"

"Same place as always, Tara." She pursed her lips, and he noticed. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just...trying to think of what to wear for coffee," she lied.

He narrowed his eyes. "Since when do you care what you wear?"

"I'm only thinking if I have clean clothes."

"Tara, you don't have feelings for Denise, right? That's gotta be...against some rules."

"I don't have feelings for Denise, okay? I just don't wanna show up and look like a slob. Or smell like a slob." She needed to wash her hair and shower tonight anyway. She smelled like an office, and she didn't know how, but she was going scrub it the hell off. Offices reminded her of school and cubicles.

"And you're just friends?"

"Sorta friends." Tara propped her feet up on the arm of the couch. "I don't know much about her. We had a couple of drinks last night, but she only talked about work and bills. She didn't talk much about herself. I had a good time, and I talked about college and how I used to prank you."

"You trapped me in a revolving door for an hour."

"That wasn't my fault! I was only trying to do it for five minutes, and the door jammed. I was stuck too!"

"You also had our phones and lunch with you."

"You're alive, aren't you?"

He chuckled. "Barely."

"You got a date out of it," she recalled. "Besides it was kind of fun."

"I don't like small spaces because of that."

"Fine, dwell on the negative."

"Back to Denise," he said. "Are you meeting at the coffee place, or are you going back to one of your apartments?"

"We haven't decided, but probably the coffee place. The chairs are comfortable, and I don't have to worry about crumbs. I had ants really bad last year. I don't want to relive that."

"And it's just about Meghan?"

"Yes, it's about Meghan. It's not a date, Noah. I seriously doubt I'm her type, and I have a date. Sorta. It's a makeup date. I haven't arranged it yet. I want to ensure Meghan's all right first."

"Denise is attracted to women too then?"

She groaned. "Why do I waste my breath?"

"Why wouldn't you be her type?"

"I dunno. She's...sophisticated and intelligent and...attractive."

"And you're not?"

"I feel like you're trying to big brother me right now, and I don't need that. I'm fine. We're just too different. I was the partying type in college, and she was the one who hung out in a library. She's the type to have four degrees as her highest accomplishment, and my high accomplishment is that I can fit an entire sleeve of Oreos in my mouth."

"Tara, you're a cop. You have done things bigger than that."

"No, that was a team effort. The Oreo thing was all me." She shrugged. "Different people. Besides I have to focus on my family right now."

"Tara, Meghan won't always need you, and you're not her mom. You can't always use them as an excuse, you know. You have to have a life too."

Her brows furrowed. "I have a life." It came out more as a pout than a fact.

"You haven't been in a serious relationship since Alicia, and we all remember how that ended. You don't even talk about relationships anymore, just work and your sister and niece. You have us a little worried."

"I talk about other things."

"Not with much zeal."

"I didn't come over here for a lecture on my lack of a relationship. I'll find somebody someday. Don't worry about it."

"At least buy a pet. That way I don't feel sad when I think about you home alone all the time."

"Not all of us can find a witness, marry them and have a beautiful child."

"Yeah, I guess I am lucky."

"Don't rub it in." She tossed a pillow at him. "I have a couple more days on desk duty then I'm back on this case, and we won't spend any time together until you come back. Enjoy our time together."

"Yeah, it's the best," he orated from underneath the pillow she'd thrown at him.

She snickered and hopped up to make a snack. "And stop thinking about me being alone. I'm not alone."

He tossed the pillow back on the couch, and it bounced off. "Fine, but don't fall for your therapist."

"Okay, you're married to someone who found a body and had you help her through the trauma. That's basically the same thing as me and Denise, only she's qualified and unyielding."

"Unyielding?"

"Yeah." Tara grabbed a beer from the fridge. Denise wasn't going to back off of the shooting and how it had impacted Tara. She would dig and dig for the next fifty years if she had to to get to the source. Tara wasn't sure she knew the source herself, but she was feeling better. It was getting better. She hoped she could convey that to Denise the next time they spoke about her and the shooting.

She paused in opening the beer. Noah had made a point: she hadn't talked or thought about her future with one of her girlfriends in a while. She hadn't even felt like any of her past girlfriends and she had a future together. She _used_ to consider it when she was in a relationship, but she hadn't taken any of her dates seriously. What changed? And why hadn't she noticed it until Noah said something?

––

She spotted Denise outside the shop, bundled up in a coat, a blue scarf and gray beanie. Her cheeks were flush from the late winter breeze, and she was moving to keep the cold away. Tara wasn't sure why she chose to wait outside, but she joined her with a welcoming smile as a greeting and held the door open for her. Denise returned the smile and walked inside. The scent of coffee and freshly baked cinnamon rolls and scones and muffins washed over them, along with a delightful blast of warmth from heating system. They ordered, Tara thanked Jacqui for the treats and drinks, and they had a seat in the back away from the windows so the frigid air that seeped through wouldn't reach them.

"Do you come here often?" Denise curled her hands around the cup of coffee.

"Yeah. I came here a lot to study when I was in high school and college. It was my home away from my home." She broke off part of a frosted, sprinkled donut. "With Meghan being so young, I had to find somewhere else to study. The house was filled with crying and just constant noise, I couldn't focus. I mean, I can tolerate noise, but it was too much, you know?"

"I have to have total silence. I'm not easily distracted, but I retain more when it's quiet."

"I can't stand pure silence. It makes my skin crawl."

"How?" She laughed.

"I dunno. It just does. I can't stand stake outs where it's all serious, when you can't talk. I have to be able to listen to music on my phone or talk to my partner." She shrugged. "It's just how I am."

She nodded. "So, your sister had Meghan when she was young?"

"She was nineteen. Meghan was an accident, but it saved Lilly's life. I was still in high school at the time, being the younger child and also being in school came with work. A friend told me about this place, and it was close to where he worked. He had a car, so he dropped me off some days, but I could walk here." She munched on the broken pieces of donuts, taking a long drink of coffee.

"What do you mean by that? Meghan saved her life?" Denise studied Tara. "Was she involved in something dangerous?"

"Yeah." She rubbed her hands together and cleared her throat. "She met an older guy, which would have been fine if he wasn't heavily into drugs and partying and alcohol. He... Lilly was sheltered by our dad, and she became a mom for me. She didn't have any free time. She had to be good. She had to make good grades and set an example for her could be at times impressionable little sister."

Denise removed her scarf. "So when she was able to attend parties, she went a little...overboard?"

"That's putting it lightly. With me as a junior, she wasn't held down. A friend took her to a party where she met the asshole, and she didn't come home for a long time. Dad was worried out of his mind, and I was pissed. I left her dozens of voice mails and texts and even emails. She didn't respond. Dad tried to use his contacts to locate her, but it didn't lead anywhere. She was off the grid."

"How much time exactly was she gone?"

"Nearly three months. She stumbled in at the end of...July, I believe." Tara ran a hand through her hair. "She was wasted, high off her ass, and I was home alone. I called Dad, and he had it all planned out. He'd nailed her window shut, taken the out her phone then locked her in her bedroom for her to sober up. He told me to call again when she woke up. Uh, she'd passed out once she'd stumbled in the house in what barely qualified as an outfit."

"That must have rough. Did she complain?"

"No, she mostly upchucked for the first couple of hours after she regained consciousness. It was gross. Dad had left a trashcan in there, and even if she had missed, I wouldn't have cleaned it up." Denise chuckled at her expression. "I can do most things, but not vomit, okay? My resistance has since improved, but back then it was thin. I was the type that if you puked, I puked."

"I get it. I have a weak stomach. I likely always will."

Tara held her coffee to her lips and drank. "When Lilly sobered up, Dad brought her food. Food that she threw up, and he was worried. She'd gotten most of it out of her system by then, so we took her to the doctor's. He didn't trust what that guy had given her. We also didn't know the full extend of her drug experimenting, whether she snorted it, swallowed pills or injected herself. He just wanted to make sure she was in good health."

"That's how she found out about the baby?"

"Yeah. We're lucky her little activities didn't affect Meghan or her pregnancy in any way." Tara shook her head. "Lilly was concerned her entire pregnancy, and after giving birth, she didn't touch booze. Even now she hesitates."

"Did she know? Is that why she came home?"

"I asked her that night when we left the hospital, but she didn't answer. She didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to think about it anymore. That's all she would tell me. She was crying, and I...just stayed with her. I didn't ask again."

"You're a great sister."

"I try to be. We're all each other has now." Tara began to ask if she'd consider having a session with Meghan but stopped herself. She should speak with Lilly first. Meghan was her daughter, and she would like her permission before making decisions about her. Lilly would be pissed if Tara went out and decided what was best for Meghan without consulting her. She could ask Denise later. Perhaps at their next session.

Denise nodded. "Dennis and I are close, but...there's a wall. He has parts of himself locked away from me. He's a good man, but...he has this bottled rage inside himself. I don't think even he knows why."

"I wouldn't have pegged him as such."

"Well, he has manners in front of strangers." She bit into a cake donut.

"You grew up in Ohio?" Tara shifted in her seat, resting a hand in her lap and meeting Denise's eyes. "Why did you move up here?"

"I wanted new scenery, I suppose. After my parents died, I couldn't be there anymore. Dennis either. He tried, but after a couple years he moved up here as well."

"I'm sorry to hear about your parents."

"It's been a while since. I'm fine with it." She smiled at the apology. "I do, however, appreciate it."

"Any happy memories?"

"Not ones that would interest you, I'm positive."

Tara smiled sincerely at the blonde woman who sat opposite her. "If it's you, I'm interested."

Denise blushed and lowered her eyes for a moment. Raising them, she began to speak on her childhood. Tara listened intently, nibbling on her donuts and drinking her coffee. It was the first time Denise had divulged personal stories about herself, no random topics to keep any conversations flowing. It was pleasant. The stillness of the cafe, the conversation, the snacks and hot coffee. It was like they were the only two around, and Tara saw a new side of Denise. She wasn't sure which she side enjoyed more yet. Perhaps there were more she hadn't seen and she didn't have to decide. However, at this rate, she found all sides of Denise appealing.

After two cups each, Tara tried to pay the bill, but Denise was sneaky. She'd paid her half when Tara had used the bathroom, and Tara shook her head when Jacqui told her. She joined Denise by the window as snow began to fall, and she sighed, not yet ready to venture out into the chill and the snow.

"What, no comments on how I paid my bill?" Denise teased.

"No comments." She smirked at her. "I had a good time."

"So did I." She adjusted her scarf. "We spent two hours here. I think it's the longest I've ever had coffee with someone. Apart from my brother, of course. Only it wasn't coffee. He's more of beers and shots kind of company."

"I'd like to take him out."

"Be my guest. I can't keep up with him." She ran her eyes over Tara's face. "We are exact opposites. He eats cereal; I prefer oatmeal. He's a drinker, and I'm not. I'm responsible and dedicated. He can be reckless and childish in the worst way. We pretty much only have one thing in common. One steady thing."

Tara smirked even more. "Well, you have to admit it's a good thing to have in common. Are your types similar?"

"I wouldn't know."

She exhaled. "I should get going. It's coming down pretty hard, and I want to pick up dinner before it's too late."

"Pick up dinner?" She chuckled. "Do you ever cook?"

"I do, but it's quicker to pick up something. Besides it's not just me tonight."

"You have company?"

"Yeah, Lilly and Meghan. I was asked to pick up dinner, and I'm going to stay over. It spares my electric bill if I shack up over there."

"Saving for something?"

"Maybe." Tara pursed her lips. "I've been considering buying a new apartment. Two bedrooms, an oven with four burns that properly work and a neighbor that doesn't repeatedly tell me I'm going to burn in hell. He's ruined my mood once at least every week."

"God, that sounds terrible."

"He's an old bastard. If I'm going to hell, he'll be right there with me."

"Why do you need two bedrooms?"

"Just more space, and I want Meghan to have a place to go. Lilly can't always keep an eye on her, and I don't want her to be Lilly two."

"I see. If you want someone to come with you while you're checking out apartments, I'd be happy to tag along."

"I might take you up on that."

Denise rubbed her nose. "By the way, your desk duty will be up soon, right?"

"I hope so. I try to lose count of the days, so when Rosita comes to me it's a surprise."

She smiled. "Well, I'd like to take you out to dinner to celebrate that. And the end of your sessions too, of course. If you finish them up before then."

"I'll try. I should be by tomorrow afternoon."

"I look forward to that visit, Ms. Chambler."

Tara chuckled. "When you call me that, I think of you briefly as a teacher or principal. Someone of authority. Ms. Chambler. God, my old principal used to call me that all the time. She tried to take me under her wing. I suppose it was that she had no children and I had no mother. She figured it was a perfect fit. She assumed I was seeking a mother figure."

Denise titled her head. "Should I take that as a compliment or insult? I don't mind the authoritative part, but...not a mother figure."

Tara arched a brow. "Well, if it's any assurance, I don't consider you to be a mother figure. You lean more toward...friend."

"That's good to know." Denise turned her gaze out the window. "I have to go, but I'll see you tomorrow."

She nodded. "Be careful getting home."

"You too." She set a hand on her arm and departed the cafe, heading for home.

Tara waved to Jacqui and slipped out herself. She thought about how much longer she'd be on desk duty. She knew the case the others were currently working was straining them and was proving to be a challenge. She wanted to aid them, but her time wasn't up. When it was, she was going to put her all in this case. That asshole wasn't going to get away with these murders.

She stopped on a corner near her car and lifted her head, snowflakes landing on her eyelashes, and a natural smile crossed her lips. She would would done with her sessions with Denise. Their business relationship would be done, and perhaps she would see more sides of the woman who didn't want their relationship to become "inappropriate" then. She hoped that was the case. Denise Cloyd was someone she wanted to know better, and she was short on good friends.

Besides it couldn't be negative to have a therapist a phone call away. With this guy out of reach and leaving a trail of devastation behind him, she could sooth the wounds the killer left on the victims' surviving family members. It was never too soon to close up wounds caused by the premature deaths of family.


	7. Back To It

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

Nearly a week had passed since her coffee with Denise, Tara knew today was the today she was off desk duty. She was thrilled. She was eager to jump in on this case, and she had some thoughts. She would have more when she had all the details. She hoped to catch this rat bastard. She didn't want this to turn into a cold case. Too many lives had been taken for it to be a cold case. Both victims and their families would have closure. She would ensure that. Or try her best to.

Tara entered the station and had a brief word with Rosita. Since Noah was still recovering, she was partnered with Grimes. Rosita assured her Michonne would debrief her on the case on the way to the latest body. Tara knew it was too much to even hope the latest body be in the morgue, so she prepared herself for his handiwork as she found Grimes.

"I know I said I'd be there, but things came up. I'm sorry." Michonne was on the phone with her son. "We'll talk about this tonight, all right? I'm really sorry. I love you."

Tara offered her a warm smile. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just some trouble at home." She slipped her phone in her back pocket. "I missed Carl's game last night. I told him I'd be there, but this new case..." She sighed. "Well, we have more important things to discuss."

Tara nodded. "He'll forgive you. He's a good kid."

"I wouldn't be so sure, but thanks for saying it." She rose out of her chair and handed her a file. "C'mon. I'll drive."

Tara studied the file on the drive to the crime scene, Michonne told her about the last site and its condition, and Tara was glad to have no had breakfast this morning. It wasn't going to be an easy sight to see, and it wasn't going to be forgettable. She knew that there would be cases like this, and she knew she would have nightmares from some of the victims, but for the most part, she didn't. She slept well enough and didn't let the cases hang on her. Well, she used to. The Samuels case was rough, and she could feel a lump forming in her throat as she viewed the photos. They were gruesome, and she had to close her eyes.

"Are you okay?" Michonne glanced over at her twice. "Are you going to be sick?"

"No." Tara shook her head, hair falling from behind her ears and brushing against her cheek. "I'm fine."

"If this is too much, you can tell me." Michonne began to slow down the car.

"I'm fine, Michonne." She cleared her throat. "Don't pull over. I'm just not a good passenger. I like to be driving." She opened her eyes and studied the road in front of them. "I'll adjust."

Michonne narrowed her eyes but increased the speed. She didn't say more as they continued to the site, but she kept an eye on Tara, noting when she closed the file and simply asked for the overview. She wondered if this might trigger Tara. She hadn't heard much about the victim, but she knew it wouldn't take much. She'd been there before. She'd seen Sasha going there before, and she knew the signs. She knew if Tara did...slip, it wasn't going to be gentle. Tara had broken down once before, and that was due to the perp's sister coming in. An actual, fresh crime scene involving a deceased, brutalized young woman? She should have taken this much slower, but they couldn't afford to. Not with this murderer out there. She hoped that she was wrong about this, because she couldn't watch her break down again. It wouldn't be like last time. It would be much, much worse.

It could be she wasn't giving Tara enough credit. Tara had a strength in her rarely any of them saw, and Michonne didn't want to mark her down as broken or fragile, because Tara found a way to be strong when while broken or upset or wounded. Some people were just born that way, and Michonne hoped that Tara wasn't on the edge anymore. She hoped that she'd been speaking with Denise and working through everything, air out her wounds, because this case was going to take a lot out of them. They were six bodies in, and he had thrown their profile out the window. They didn't know who they were dealing with, who on the street could be a potential victim and that was the worst part of it.

She glanced once more at Tara. "Let me know if you need a break in there."

"I've had a long enough break," Tara replied. "I just want to get back to it."

Michonne nodded. "Don't overdo it."

"I won't," Tara smirked, " _Mom_."

"Hey, I am a mom, and I will mom you. I will mom you to death."

"You pretty much already are."

"Do you want me to ground you?" Michonne shot back with a smirk, and Tara laughed. "You think I'm playing?"

She laughed even harder, and Michonne smiled back at her. Laughter was always a good sign.

At the site Tara and Michonne split up to take a look at the scene and the victim. Michonne spoke with the neighbor who had called in it, and Tara drifted through the house to find where the murder had occurred. She found CSU and the body. Her eyes locked onto the young woman who lie in her own blood, the other officer in the room told Tara the information on the woman—who she was, where she worked, her next of kin—and then on to the assault.

Tara swallowed with difficulty, the victim's glassy, fogged-over green eyes seared into her brain, and she leaned carefully over the table, scanning the body that lie there. She was posed, as the majority of the blood was in the living room on the broken glass from the coffee table. She was sprawled out on her dining table, arms out on either side of her, her pale skin stained from her own blood with gaping holes from a weapon they'd yet to identify on her torso, forearms, thighs and finally along her throat. There were clumps of hair missing from her head, so they could assume he'd dragged her around this place before he killed her. Judging by the bruises on her arms, she fought back. She was a fighter, so they might find DNA under her nails—if they were lucky. This son of a bitch was good, knew his targets and their neighborhoods well and left nothing useful behind. She hoped this woman had dug her nails into his arm or his scalp and ripped a big chuck out of him.

Tara lowered her head, her eyes landing on the floor. She didn't need to be told this woman had felt most of injuries inflicted on her; it was evident in her eyes wide, horrified eyes. She couldn't imagine being her in the last hours of her life. "Poor girl," Tara murmured to herself, shaking her head slightly. She would find this asshole and bring him in if she had to tear this city down to do it.

Tara turned to the officer who had arrived first at the scene. "What's her name?"

"Uhh, her name?" He thought for a moment. "Allison. I can't remember the last name, but it is Allison."

"Allison?" She nodded to herself and moved away from the body. _We'll find this guy, Allison. I promise you. God, you brave girl._

Michonne joined Tara and glanced at the victim. "So, we may have caught a break."

"Yeah, let's hope that's DNA under her nails and not dirt from the garden." Tara removed her gloves. "I have to get some air."

Michonne gave a nod. "I'll be here."

She stuffed the gloves in her pocket and scurried out of the apartment. She walked away from the officers who were minding the curious minds and worried neighbors, her hurried pace caused the chilled air to swarm her exposed skin and seep through her jacket, and she began to run. She had no destination in mind, but she was bolting down the street as quickly she could. Somehow her elevated heart rate from movement was consoling. Perhaps because it was the first time in far too long that her heart raced from exercise, not the horrors of yet another nightmare, not from the flashes and thoughts that haunted her mind. The questions and demands that she couldn't answer.

She slid on ice and gasped, a nearby tree saving her from falling, and she gripped it tightly, bark digging into her skin. She caught her breath and turned around so that her back was against the tree. She grasped her knees and crouched down, dragging her hands through her hair, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Yet she could still see it. Like a glitchy imagine on a computer screen, the sound distorted and ominous. Lizzie on the ground, Allison on her table, Mika in tears, the first handful of victims in their various positions, as if they were dolls to be used and discarded. As if it were all right for this son of a bitch to swoop down and take their lives. She didn't know them personally, but most of the people who had spoken about them said they were good people who didn't deserve this. Not that anyone did. Well, perhaps the asshole doing this did, but not them.

"Mom, Dad, come on!"

Tara lifted her head the sound of a young girl's urging her parents to pick up their pace. The girl was all bundled up, likely told so by her mother, and she was waving them toward the car. Her dad was purposefully taking this time, walking in slow motion, and she rolled her eyes at him, only earning a laugh from him. Her mother wrapped her arms around her and told her to calm down, that they wouldn't be late, and the girl huffed, but nodded.

The girl's eyes found Tara, sensing someone watching her, and her gaze softened with sorrow at the sight of the woman across the street. She gave a smile before piling into the car with her parents and driving off.

Tara pressed her lips together and raised her head to the sky. It was cloudy today, the hue of blue icy, like the temperature, and a gray settled among the blue and the clouds, and she closed her eyes to the harsh world. This would only last a moment, but it was a moment she sorely needed.

– – –

Denise unlocked her office, checking her watch and seeing she had hours before her first client. She needed to verify her schedule and either find time or make time to help Dennis shop for new furniture and then unload it. She wished she had male friends, but most of her time was spent here or at home. She didn't come across many steady men in her line of work either, and most of Dennis' friends were assholes she wasn't going to expose herself to. They needed furniture moved, not a fist fight in the street, and if they began with the childish and vulgar comments toward her sexuality, that was exactly where it would head.

Freeing her key from the lock, she twisted her head to the side and discovered Tara Chambler sitting on her couch, and she blinked, shifting her bewildered stare from the door she'd _just unlocked_ to the woman on her couch. She wasn't positive how this happened, but there was no shattered glass littering her floor, no signs of breaking and entering, thus someone in the building likely let her in. And then proceeded to lock her in the office. What the hell? Who locked her in here?

"How long have you been here?" Denise set her coffee and bag on the desk, meeting Tara's eyes. "How did you get in here?"

"The janitor let me in. Flashed my badge, and he let me hang out in here." She shrugged. "I don't even know when I came here. I wasn't trying to come here. I should be at the station. We have a case to work, and I'm back on duty, but...when I stopped driving, I was here."

Denise studied her eyes, a darkness lingered there, and she folded her arms. "Are you all right?"

"Not really." She spoke with a quiver in her words, and she shook her head. "I didn't sleep last night. I couldn't, just tossed and turned."

"Why couldn't you sleep?"

"Our latest victim, Allison Sterling, was a twenty-year-old college student. She was studying to became a neurosurgeon. She was an honor student. Dedicated. Kind. A volunteer. An only child. Her mother is devastated." Tears bunched up in her eyes yet not a single one fell, and Tara scrapped a hand through her hair, not even wincing when she pulled out a few hairs. "She collapsed when we told her the news, pleading that...we be wrong, that it was someone else, that she couldn't handle losing her daughter after _just_ losing her husband."

A single tear fell, and Tara laughed cruelly, not a trace of humor to detected in the sound. "Who was she begging? Us? God? The universe itself? I mean...wow." She narrowed her eyes and stuffed her hand back into her hoodie pocket. "It's a pretty shit universe. To take away a woman's only child after her husband died _two months ago_. I mean that's fucked up. Seriously fucked up."

"Tar—"

"No, no, don't." Her eyes sliced into Denise's. "Pardon my language, but don't." She shot up and started for the door, Denise hurried to catch her, but Tara whirled around, throwing her arms up. "God!" It was a scream, and Denise jolted at the sound. It was agonizing, and not because it was a scream in an office that echoed. It was the anguish and confusion that dripped from the word, from Tara's shaking body and the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

Denise stood five feet from Tara, her hand was about to reach out to stop Tara moments ago but now only hovered, and she couldn't breath at the sight before her. She couldn't speak. She couldn't move a muscle. It was the first time she'd seen Tara like this. Surely it matched the events during her encounter with Mika Samuels, and her heart was crushed by the pain written on every inch of Tara's face.

"Whose will demands that those people be brutally murdered in their homes?!" Tara demanded, her voice powerful and quivering at the same time. "Who says little girls have to be twisted and dark?! Who decides that?! What kind of monster thought to himself "Let's cross wires in this little girl's head so she'll dissect animals and eventually have a thirst for murder"?! Who gets to decide that a father has to live with the knowledge that _his_ little girl took someone's precious teacher and child and neighbors out of their lives?!"

Denise had no words, and it didn't matter if she did. The hurt inside Tara had clenched tighter and tighter since the shooting, and now it was unraveling. She could only imagine what torment was brewing inside of Tara.

"Did...God just...think "Let's pollute these minds and leave these ones clear"? Or is this the devil's work? Perhaps he...gets his jollies by sending some asshole inside the home a mother of two, raping her daughter as she's forced to watch and then gutting her right there in the same room moments later! With her children two feet away, crying and screaming against tape over their mouths! What's the point of it? To scar those innocent children for life? So they'll grow up broke and possible better themselves and the lives of others? Is that what it takes to fix this world?" She had stopped shouting, although her voice was raised. "Is this shithole so fucked that mentally broken and physically scarred people are the only ones who can make a difference? Is that point? Is that why people are born with pieces...missing? So they can destroy someone for years and years after the fact with the slim chance of them overcoming it and devoting their lives to assisting people just like them?" Tara sank to the floor. "I don't even want to know whose will would want this..."

Denise lowered herself down in front of her, smoothing down her hair gently. "I don't know what twists people so severely that they do such abominable things. I don't know if the help we can offer them truly sates that...dark urging. I wish I had answer for you, but the best I can give is this. There are terrible people in the world who do unspeakable things, and there are people like you who only wish to lock them away so they can't endanger another soul. For whatever darkness there is out there, there is plenty...good too."

She released several shaky breaths, wheezing in sharply and covering her face with her hands. "What good am I if I can't save them?"

"You can't save everyone, Tara, but for all the murderers and rapists you have locked away, there are handfuls of potential victims that were spared."

"And the ones who...lead us to them? They're either dead or...scarred for the rest of their lives. I know what it's like to lose family, but it was natural causes. I can't...begin to imagine losing family because some bastard decided they were a perfect target. I don't know if a family could come back from that. I really don't."

"They might not come back entirely, but with the right aid, I'm sure part of them return."

She clenched her jaw and lowered her hands from her face, her fingers as shaky as the rest of her. "I can still...feel the blood on my hands. It wasn't even her blood that day. It was Noah's, but I can feel it...sticky between my fingers. Cold and congealed. There's no...washing it off."

With those words, Tara buried her face in hands yet again and collapsed against Denise, sobbing, and Denise moved the falling hairs back from Tara's face and swept it gently behind her ear. She rubbed her arm and closed her eyes. She had pondered when Tara would meet her breaking point, and while this was a good moment in the long run, it currently only made her ache.

Honestly, whose will demanded all the cruelty and twisted enjoyment in this world? All of these broken people scrambling to fix themselves, digging into themselves to be able to breath in, or even the ones pleading for it all to be over every passing moment all because of one or multiple tragic events in their lives. Perhaps some events were subtle, like a breeze drifting in through open windows and trickling inside their victims late at night; a gentle caress that would leave a permanent tear. Or the more blatant ones, the ones that took and took until there was nothing left of who that person used to be and then they took some more. Whose will demanded this? And why must that will continue to demand?


	8. Give It Time

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

I apologize for the delay in this story. I hope you're all well! I've missed writing for your beautiful faces!

* * *

Denise handed Tara a bottle of water once the tears had passed. In those beautiful brown eyes yet lingered a darkness, and Denise wanted it to pass more than anything. She wanted to see the light and spunk that she had heard about from Rosita and Sasha. In time maybe she could, but for now she had a job to do, and it was finally time to do it.

"This question will be stupid, but how are you feeling?"

Tara shrugged a shoulder, bringing the bottle to her lips and drinking. She swallowed and confessed, "I don't feel anything."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing." She drank deeply from the bottle then placed it on the table and scooted back on the couch. "I'm sorry to barge in here like I did. It's too late now, but I wanted you to know I am sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I was in early, and I'm glad I was here." She wanted to squeeze her hand but settled for a comforting smile. "You don't have to apologize to me. I want to help. I want to be here for you."

"Well, you get a gold sticker for best therapist." She rubbed her eyes then crossed her arms, leaning back so she was physically away from Denise.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Push me away. I don't think less of you, and honestly...all I think of when I think about you is that you're brave. If you want to run away from me, fine, but don't justify it by filling your mind with false thoughts about my opinion of you."

"I'm not running," Tara shot back. "I'm not...trying to run. I don't think you...think less of me or anything; I'm just exhausted."

"That's no surprise. Why don't you go home and rest? You're no good to anyone at the station in this condition, and you need some time to process this."

"Home...the place I can't seem to sleep at."

"Why can't you sleep there?"

"Beats me." She stood up. "You're right though. I'm no good in this state. I should get going."

"If you can't sleep at home, try sleeping at a friend's. Or your sister's."

"Let's see. I have questions asked by my partner and his wife and a little kid who will pester me because it's our thing, or preexisting tension between mother and child, and relentless prodding from a mother hen who can't remember her place is as my sister. Well, my options are so great I simply cannot decide."

She chuckled. "Are those really it?"

"Yeah. I mean, Meghan's at school for four more hours, but it's Lilly's day off. She'll be out cold, and if I had a key, I could just slide in without a sound, but I lost it. And Noah...has problems of his own, and he'll try to add mine to his. He thinks he can big brother me. I have to remind him he can't."

She nodded. She knew it wasn't professional. She could feel the rules she normally followed staring her down and silently questioning her judgment. She knew the line that had been drawn between therapist and patient would undoubtedly be crossed if she did this yet she couldn't stay her hand from reaching toward her desk drawer. The small middle drawer where a spare key to her apartment rested inside on an old key chain. It was only there in case Dennis showed up out of the blue and needed someplace to crash, having fallen on hard times again. As always Dennis proved to be unreliable, out and about at ungodly hours with the only key, causing Denise to be locked out in the hall. Upon being locked out of her place for the third time, she lectured her brother and had a second key made. A key her fingers wanted to practically toss at Tara with an odd determination.

"Why not sleep at my place then? You've been there before, and you slept pretty well."

"Are you sure that's okay? I don't want you feel like you have to do this." Her eyes flickered from Denise's reaching fingers and her eyes. "I—I can try at my place. It's fine."

"No, it's not. Look, I trust you, and my place is vacant. I don't have anything valuable anyway, and you look like shit. No offense."

"Some taken. I just so happen to look like high quality shit. You know, the hasn't sleep in over thirty-three hours and is possible wearing the same outfit from yesterday high quality shit."

She laughed. "Well, how dare I suggest you're low quality shit."

Tara smiled weakly.

"Here." She pulled the spare set of keys out of her lockable drawer and set them in Tara's hand, curling her fingers around them. "Get there safely, okay?"

"Thank you." Tara locked eyes with her. "Truly."

"You're welcome." She smiled. "Now go and rest. I have a client in ten minutes."

"Can I help myself to the second shelf?"

"We may be friends, but never. The second shelf is mine."

She laughed. "Okay, fine. Water is it."

"No coffee either. If I find out you made a pot, I'm going to flog you."

"I don't...even know what that is." She backed up. "I'll see you later then."

She nodded. "Later."

Tara clenched the keys in her palm and headed out as Denise's next client headed in. She carefully drove to Denise's apartment, lucky to have remembered the way, and she scurried into the building. She found the apartment quickly and locked up behind her.

"Dennis?"

There was no reply or noise, so she removed her hoodie and shoes. She didn't want to presume the bed was an option, so she opted for the couch instead. She gathered the familiar blanket from the hall and curled up. Her eyelids were heavy, and as the picture and dish on the coffee table before her blurred, she was aware of the silence of the apartment. It was...

––

Denise saw her last patient of the day and readied her things to leave. She spoke with Dennis, hearing he was over at a friend's for tonight, and she was thankful. She didn't need him stomping around and keeping her up till one, two, three in the morning talking about their childhood and every silly little things in between. She loved him, but she needed to sleep once in a while.

She had to finish the form for Tara. She'd signed off to allow her back on active duty and for her required counseling, but she wanted to inform Rosita that Tara could use a few more sessions. Now that the walls were down, they could get somewhere. Fragile as Tara was, she was capable of working the job too. Denise was confident on that. Tara had unspoken pockets of strength, and Denise knew that she could tap into them if she had to, if the situation called for it. Her partner had no need to worry.

As for her mental stability. Well, that was different. She had pushed it all back to the furthest, darkest recesses of her mind until it came screaming back. She had broken down instantly, succumb to the screams and the waves of confusion and devastation. Denise could help her channel that, to calm them both, and Tara would be fine. There would be many triggers in this case, but Denise knew Tara couldn't stand her desk anymore. She would be there every step of the way, and the other detectives had been there. They would have Tara's back in a flat second. She would get through this, and it wouldn't bother her in time.

Denise closed her apartment door, setting her things down on the floor gently and moving loose strands of blonde hair out of her face. She shuffled through the darkness and found her bedroom, removing her shoes. She changed into something more comfortable and pulled her hair down to capture the loose strands and tighten her ponytail.

It was only then that she realized how quiet her apartment was. She flicked on the bedroom light and used it as a guide to find the switch on the lamp in the living room. She heard soft moaning and her eyes fell on the curled up figure of Tara Chambler on her couch. She smiled to herself and continued with her hair, taking a seat on the coffee table in front of her waking guest.

"Hmm..." She inhaled deeply and pushed hair from her face. "Denise?"

"Hey." She spoke softly and chuckled at the mess of hair atop Tara's head. "Sleep well?"

"I think I blacked out." She blinked to clear her vision, finding a less professionally dressed blonde before her. "I feel like my tongue is ten times too big."

"I'll get you some water."

Tara swallowed and ran a hand through her hair, wincing at the knots that halted her hand's path, and she eventually gave up trying to loosen them. She had a beanie somewhere, probably in her hoodie pocket. She'd toss it on before she showed her face to the outside world. She'd look worse, she was sure.

"Here." Denise held out a glass of ice water, and Tara accepted, chugging it like she'd never had before in her life. "You look better."

"Mmm?" she inquired around the gulp of water.

"You had me worried." Denise studied her, taking in her normal skin tone, the bird's nest her rest had done to those raven locks, and the slight sparkle in those beautiful eyes that made Tara who she was. The darkness that swirled chaotically before was nowhere in sight. "How are you feeling? Better?"

Tara set the drained glass on the table beside her and pushed herself upright. "Definitely better." She cleared her throat. "I didn't dream..."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, it's a good thing. No dreams are better than nightmares." She swung around to face Denise and flashed her a grin. "Thank you for letting me crash here."

"No problem." Denise returned her smile. "Are you hungry?"

"I am...starving."

"What sounds good?" She rose off the table and found the stash of menus in the box that was meant to hold bread. "I can cook or we can just order." She held them up.

"You cook?" Tara arched a playful brow.

"From time to time," she admitted. "I had to learn, because Dennis nearly caught the house on fire trying to make popcorn. My parents weren't handy in the kitchen either, so it fell to me. I'm a decent cook."

"Me too. Lilly did all of the cooking when I was a kid, but I had to learn for when I moved on. She seriously spent an entire day showing me how to make food. For like a week, she made me help out in the kitchen, said she didn't want me to have a stroke at thirty-eight because of takeout." She shook her head. "I don't cook as much as I should. There's just not much point when it's for one, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." She wore a warm smile. "So, which do you want?"

"Didn't you say you'd take me out?" Tara recalled. "For a real celebration dinner?"

"I did." Denise checked the time. "It's not too late now, if you still want to."

"I'd like to."

"All right." She tucked the menus back into their hole. "Um, I know an Italian place a couple blocks from here. It's kinda ritzy, but I know the owner. He's been bugging me to have dinner there. How about we go there?"

"Do I have look pretty?" Tara teased. "Not that it's hard."

Denise snickered. "You don't have to go all out."

She nodded. "I need a shower first and to deal...with this." She pointed to her hair, earning another chuckle, and Denise nodded. "I'll pick you up in an hour?"

"Okay."

Tara was now on her feet and stretching her aching limbs. She wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep, but it was long enough for Denise to have gotten off work. She would have to call Rosita and explain what had happened to her today. Grimes may have covered for her, but she'd rather explain it herself, no lies. It was a simple case of insomnia. No point in lying about that. This might give Rosita caught to force Tara to take a step back from this case, but if she lied, her ass was cemented to that desk chair for the rest of her career.

Tara collected her things, slipping into her hoodie. She dug through the pocket to fish out the black beanie, yanking it out and causing her phone to collide into the wall. She cursed and collected it; the case luckily sparing her from having to gather the scattered pieces as she'd done countless times in the past. She snapped the case closed as it'd loosened due to the collision and her screen lit up, revealing several missed calls and texts.

 _The hell?_ She unlocked it and flicked through the texts from Grimes, Williams and even Espinosa. She cursed and saw they had another body. They were calling her in. From the number of texts, she didn't have a choice. She'd be able to slip into a chance of clothes, maybe. Dinner? No way in hell. She lowered her phone and looked down the hall where Denise had disappeared. Shit.

"Denise?" She hurried to her bedroom, hand on the wall as she stopped. "Denise?"

"Yeah?" She stepped out of the bathroom, her eyes falling on Tara's apologetic and panicked face. "What happened?"

"We have another body," she rapidly filled her in, gesturing with her phone. "I'm so sorry. I have to go."

"No, no it's fine. I have paperwork to catch up on so...it's just as well." She forced a smile to assure Tara it was all right. She knew cops. The job came first. "Find him. It's more important than a dinner."

"I'll make it up to you." She offered a smile before running out of the apartment to her car.

"Yeah," she softly murmured, flicking the bathroom light off. She could argue with herself at how silly her emotions were. Disappointment on having a decent meal with good company was understandable. She'd been cooped up in her office and in the apartment for far too long, but this felt odd. The feeling resting on her chest wasn't leaving as easily as it should. Disappointment was common in her life, and she could easily wave it away, but not this time. Christ. A murderer was on the loose, having taken another life, and here she was pretty much silently moping to herself. She had no right. Someone was dead; dinner plans being reschedule didn't compare. God, she needed to get her priorities straight. Or get some sleep herself.

– – –

After stopping at home and throwing on the first decent things she owned, Tara sped to the station. Rosita was on the phone with one of the higher uppers most likely, Grimes was out informing the family, and Williams was waiting for the results on the DNA from the second to last victim to come in. She saw Tara and caught her up to speed.

"It wasn't his usual kill," Sasha continued. "This one...was impromptu, like he was pissed off. Like Allison just didn't do it for him."

Tara nodded. "He's derailing."

"Rapidly." Sasha handed her the notes Grimes had taken after speaking with the neighbors. "With any luck, we'll have his DNA in a matter of minutes. Just waiting for Porter to call us."

Tara sank into her chair and reviewed the notes. Nobody saw anything or heard anything until the neighbor came to check on her at ten o' clock that evening. They were scheduled to have dinner together, just a friendly dinner and move night they had every fifth of the month. They'd been doing it since Lolly moved in a couple years ago. It was taking placing at the neighbor's that night. Lolly never showed.

Tara scanned the photos of Lolly Sung, clenching her jaw. She was laid out just like Allison and the other three victims had been. The damage done to her was similar but more savage, like Sasha said their killer seemed more agitated, and were it not for the picture Grimes pulled of Lolly, they wouldn't know what she even looked like. "Christ." She straightened in her seat and something caught her eye. "Hey, Sasha?"

"What?" Sasha covered the mouthpiece of her phone, successfully harassing Porter into hurrying the hell up on those results. "You find something?"

"Yeah." She approached her desk with a picture and showed her the warped finger on the left hand. "Looks like broke her finger trying to get something off."

"Give me a call when you have the results, Porter." She hung up the phone and took the picture. "I don't think Allison had this injury."

"Was she married?"

"Not according to the neighbor. Lolly was single." She narrowed her eyes. "Why don't you check in on Grimes? The parents might know if Lolly was married or at least engaged."

She dug her phone out of her pocket and dialed the familiar number, drifting toward the murder board and gazing at the pictures of the five dead woman. They were all different races, different lifestyles, different classes, ages and jobs. They had nothing in common, save for their vicious murders. She didn't understand what drew their guy to these women. Their homes were spread throughout the city, so perhaps they caught his attention and he followed her home. Tara couldn't find the connection, couldn't pinpoint what would catch his attention. Their appearances varied vastly, and unless he was able to get close enough to know them on a personal level, there was nothing to connect him to them.

Yet no new men were lurking in any of these women's lives. Lolly may have been married or engaged, but Allison wasn't. Nor were the other three victims. And why did he suddenly decide to spread the murders out? He went from dropping three to leaving one a day. What the hell was this guy doing? Did he mean to only take one but was caught twice? To be caught twice by only two women seemed unlikely. He'd have to have planed it that way. So what the hell was he doing? This was bizarre and erratic.

"Grimes."

"It's Chambler." Tara turned from the board. "How did it go with the family?"

"About as well as you can expect. The mom had a complete break down, and she couldn't even talk to me. Her husband...told me Lolly was a good woman, wouldn't harm a fly, well mannered and loved. He couldn't think of anyone who would want to hurt her." She sighed heavily.

"What is it?" Tara could hear more than just sorrow from informing the family in that sigh. "Michonne?"

"Lolly had a kid. A three year old."

"Christ."

"Yeah. He was spending the week with his grandparents."

"So, Lolly was married then?"

"No. Her and the boy's father broke it off after he was born. They haven't been in contact since." Michonne paused. "Why do you ask?"

"Her left ring finger was broken." She pulled the picture toward her. "Allison didn't have that injury. None of the other women did either."

"That's strange. Why would he be interested in a ring?"

"Maybe it was the ex. He wanted it back."

"After three years?" Michonne was disbelieving.

"Maybe he was hard up for money," she argued. "He went to ask her for it, she says no, and he kills her, taking it back."

"And the other four victims?"

Tara sighed. "I dunno."

"It was a good theory, but sadly only applies to Lolly. We'll talk more on this when I get back. I don't like to talk on the phone and drive."

"Okay." She hung up and saw Rosita nodding her inside her office. She set her phone on the desk and strolled inside, closing the door when commanded to. "I can explain my absence," she began.

"No need. Denise told me, and that's not why I called you in here."

"What is it?" Tara could hear the concern in her voice.

"They just arrested your niece," Rosita answered, "for public intoxication."

"What?" Tara exclaimed. "That's insane! Meghan's fourteen. She can't purchase booze! She doesn't even know anybody who can."

"I told them you'd handle it." She locked eyes with her. "She's in your hands. I pulled a lot of strings for this, so...handle it."

"I will."

"She's downstairs."

"Give me an hour."

"One hour then I need you back here. We have no leads, and if he keeps this up, we're going to have another body on our hands. I need all of you here, all right? One hour." Her voice was tight from stress and dead ends they kept running into. She wanted to keep it from her voice, but she couldn't. This was one of the worse cases they've worked, and they had no leads. They had no evidence, save for the DNA under one of the victim's nails. She prayed it lead somewhere, because if it didn't, they'd have to wait for him to slip up, and that meant someone else would have to die. That wasn't acceptable. They had to find this bastard. Tonight, if they could.

Tara's mind reeled as the elevator dragged her down to the first floor where Meghan was. She knew Meghan had been acting out. Lilly had told her as much, but Lilly didn't mention anything about Meghan drinking. Meghan was a good kid. She made good grades and worked her ass off to finish projects. She pulled an all nighter to finish a paper due in two weeks in her AP English class. Tara and Lilly begged her to work on it later, but she was in the zone and had to finish it before she went to sleep. She then protested to Lilly making her stay home to rest the next day. Tara swore up and down that Meghan was an alien after that. What the hell kind of kid fights skipping school? It was parent approved and everything. Tara had to break something for Dad to let her stay home and even then he was basically like shake it off.

God. Meghan wasn't this girl. She was a good girl who followed rules and like homework and enjoyed watching TV with her mom on the weekends. She didn't sneak about. She certainly didn't drink. She wasn't the type of kid to do any of that—ran around partying and getting wasted and causing trouble. This didn't make any sense. Meghan was hanging around to an older guy, yes, but Lilly had assured her she'd nipped it in the bud. Tara had poked and poked, and Lilly vowed it was dealt with. Meghan was back on track and this guy was out of her life. Lilly had made sure, she said. So, either Lilly was the world's best lair and worst mother, or Meghan was the world's best lair. Ugh, how the hell did this happen? Why was this happening? Why in the world was Meghan skipping school to get _wasted_? And to top that off, she took it outside and got arrested! What on earth was going on with her lately? Teenage rebel? Tara thought that came later. At sixteen. She was two years a teenager, and this happened. Fuck.

 _Breath, just breath._ There had to be a perfectly good explanation for this. Maybe it was a hoax. Maybe it was just a bad dream, and she'd wake up on Denise's couch. They'd have dinner, and it'd leave her mind. Because this couldn't be happening, not with her niece. Not with Meghan. She calmed her thoughts as she stepped off the elevator only to have them scramble back up when she spotted Meghan. _Be a fucking dream_ , she pleaded. Let her wake and see that adorable smile of concern on Denise's face. _Please, please._

Meghan was cuffed to a bench with Lerner beside her. Meghan looked like a hot mess, her eyes bleary and bloodshot, her hair a curly, tangled-looking mess, and Tara didn't want to know who she got that outfit from. It was a mess of black and too small for her or anybody. She was grateful Lerner had tossed a coat over...that...floss of an outfit.

"I'll take it from here."

Dawn started to uncuff the girl, but Tara shook her head. "All right. I'll leave you to it." She strolled off.

Meghan didn't look at her.

Tara crossed her arms. "What the hell is this?" She stared at her niece, trying to will an answer from her, but she didn't give one. Tara scoffed. "You're in such trouble, kid."

"Gee, really? I thought these cuffs were for show," she retorted.

"Don't take that tone with me." She bent down and met Meghan's gaze. "What is going on with you? Huh? Come on, talk to me, kid."

"Nothing's going on with me." She shrugged a shoulder. "I can't help what you and Mom don't notice."

"That isn't funny. Do you know what kind of trouble you could be in right now? And I don't mean legally."

"I was fine!" Meghan hissed. "We were fine. I came out to get some air, and someone asshole cop arrested me, claiming that "I was drunk"."

"I can smell the alcohol on your breath," Tara snapped.

"Whatever." She shifted and locked her gaze on the doors. "Just take me home."

"No, Meghan, not whatever." She bore holes into her niece's side profile. "Do you know what could have happened to you? You've been drinking, it's late on a Thursday, and you're...in that? Do you know what could have happened? Do you?"

She shook her head, but tears prickled up behind the annoyance. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, because you got lucky. Next time? Who can say?"

"Just call my mom so I can go home." She tugged the jacket Lerner had given her closer.

Nodding her head and rising, Tara placed her hands on her hips. "I hope you're proud of yourself, Meghan, because I can assure you—no one else is."

"Yeah, yeah," she murmured.

"I don't get it," Tara remarked. "You're a good kid. You're the smartest kid I know, and you have a bright future ahead of you. Why are you trying to screw it up? For attention? For fun? I don't understand."

"And you never will!" Meghan growled. "Just call my damn mother!"

Tara blinked. "Fine." She unlocked the handcuffs and approached the desk for the phone. "Maybe Lilly can straighten you out."

Meghan snorted. "Straighten me out? Please, she was in deeper than me."

Tara sent her a glare as the phone rang.

"What? You couldn't even rein her in." She folded her arms. "Her words are the words of a hypocrite."

Tara hung up the phone before Lilly had a chance to answer and grabbed her niece's forearm, hauling her toward the doors. Meghan winced at the grip and demanded to know what the hell Tara was doing, but Tara didn't answer. She led her to the car and all but tossed her inside then drove to the one person she could think of who might be able to help. She still had time on her hour, and the location wasn't far away. She hoped she wouldn't mind the intrusion.

––

"Where's Chambler?" Michonne scanned the room but only found Sasha.

"She'll be back soon." Rosita entered from her office. "How did it go?"

"We have a possible lead, but only for Lolly. Her ex-fiancee." Michonne shuffle out of her coat. "Of course it'd have to apply to the others as well. We didn't release the detail about them being posed."

"Well, maybe the others were just warm-ups," Sasha suggested. "Explains why the damage done to Lolly was so extensive. She could have been his goal along."

"But if these women were substitutes for Lolly, shouldn't they at least look like her?" Michonne helped herself to a cup of coffee. "Or share her profession? Or at least personality?"

"It was just a suggestion," Sasha griped.

"So, we have nothing to go on?" Rosita turned to Williams. "What about the DNA?"

"Porter's taking his sweet time, but he'll let us know as soon as he does." She leaned back in her chair. "Who knows when that'll even be. I couldn't even guess."

"We know where the ex is?" Rosita glanced at Grimes, who nodded and informed them of where he was working—Lolly's father keeping tabs in case Lolly needed help with their son. "All right. Sasha, you've been here for four hours, why don't you go out and pick up the ex?"

"You got it." She gathered her coat and scarf, eager for some fresh air. Her eyes were starting to play tricks on her from staring at notes and her computer screen for hours.

Rosita checked her watch. "Anyone else hungry?"

"I could eat this desk," Michonne replied.

Rosita cracked a slight smile. "I'll buy."

Michonne returned to her desk and ran her eyes over the first scenes' pictures. She knew something had to stand out here. It was the first time, mistake likely were made. If they weren't made with leaving forensic evidence behind then with the bodies. There had to be a connection here. She felt like it was staring her blank in the face, but it was so out of reach. From where she sat, they were no connection, no motive, no opportunity. Anyone involved with these women were all accounted for, and the ones that weren't couldn't have done it. She knew in her gut, and she'd interviewed them again and again, but nothing new came of it. This was swiftly growing cold. If they didn't find a lead soon, if the ex didn't lead anywhere, they were screwed.

Setting her mug down on the table, Michonne began to compare the photos. There had to be something they were missing. There just had to be. She wouldn't let this case slip under the rug. There had to be a connection, and she would find it.

––

Denise opened her door and blinked in confusion at the sight of Tara Chambler and a young girl who was definitely inappropriately dressed. The girl's hair was a matted mess, her makeup was smudged terribly, and she wasn't even sure what the hell she was wearing. She looked furious, and Tara looked just as furious with a heaping side of irritated desperation

"What...can I do for you?" Denise tried to keep the bemusement from her voice and face.

"A session," Tara begged. "For her."

"Umm...?"

"May we come in?"

"Sure." She stepped aside and closed the door behind her. The girl plopped down dramatically on the couch, and Tara pulled her close to whisper a conversation to her. "What's going on?"

"I know this is really abrupt and very rude, but I need you to talk some sense into her. I can't. I have about twenty-five minutes to get back to work or a small Latin woman will kick my ass from here to Pluto. I don't doubt that she can. So, please, please, please just talk to her and...I dunno, fix her?"

"Fix her?" Denise released a small laugh. "Tara, she's not a microwave or fan—I can't just fix her. I can talk to her, but fixing is entirely up to her."

"Okay, set her straight then. Make her see she's being absurd and unnecessarily putting herself in danger."

"Okay, okay, let's just...back track a bit. First, who is this child? And second, what is she doing wrong?"

"Right. Sorry, that's my fourteen-year-old niece Meghan. She was arrested for public intoxication." She searched Denise's eyes. "Her mom did the same thing, only five years later, and I—I can't watch Meghan do the same thing. Lilly only came around, because she got pregnant. I don't want my fourteen-year-old niece to get knocked up—or worst. Wandering around like she was, she could have been kidnapped or raped or killed. Or all of the above."

"I was perfectly fine!" Meghan groused upon hearing her aunt's whispers in the dead silent apartment.

"You were not! You couldn't even walk!"

"That's 'cause I'm clumsy! You should know; you're clumsy too."

Tara resisted the urge to smother her with a pillow. "Please, talk to her, Denise."

"Tara, I can't just talk to her."

"You have my consent, if that's what you need. Lilly's too." Probably. Well, no. It'd be never. Lilly might actually kill Tara for this, you know after she kills Meghan for drinking. "Lilly has to work late tonight, so she'd just be left alone. Just keep an eye on her and talk to her, please. I will make this up to you."

Denise glanced at the kid on her couch then back at Tara who was pleading at her with those big coffee-colored eyes that were worming guilt into her heart at the possibility of declining. She didn't mind having company, and she didn't mind it being a smart-mouthed little kid, but she didn't want to counsel her. She was off the clock. Moreover it didn't take a genus to figure out this girl wasn't going to talk. Denise could take a crow bar to her mouth and get nothing out of her. She was a kid, clearly seething about something, but maybe she could get it out of her. Maybe.

"I'm not making any promises," Denise told her.

"Thank you." Tara beamed. "I have to go, but I'll back as soon as I can. Or Lilly will be by. She's like a paler, more frowning version of me."

Denise's lips tugged in a slight smile as she nodded. "Be careful, Tara."

"I will be." She walked around the couch to see her niece's face. "I'll see you later, Meg, okay?"

"You're dropping me off with a stranger? Great."

"She's not a stranger," Tara corrected. "She's a good friend, and you'd better be respectful."

"Why?"

"Because I'm asking you to, and you have no reason to be impolite to her."

She scoffed and averted her eyes. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

Tara grasped her head and forced a kiss to the top of those messy curls before departing, wishing she knew what to say to break down the walls Meghan was building around herself. Dad was always good at that. Tara had the humor, Dad had the words and Lilly was the smothering mother. They were a good team. God, what she wouldn't do to talk to him one more time, to ask him how in the world she was supposed to handle this. She didn't have a clue, and she hoped Denise did, because this couldn't happen again. They didn't even know she'd ever had alcohol and then all of sudden she's wasted and stumbling around on the sidewalk. They didn't even notice. Tara wasn't always around, but she was around enough. And Lilly? Was she blind to it? Or did Meghan hide it well?

Tara bit her bottom lip as she turned the key in the ignition and her car roared to life, heat blasting out of the vents at her. Or had Meghan told them about her issues, but they were too distracted to notice? God. She gripped the wheel tightly. Was that it? They were so caught up in themselves that Meghan fell through the cracks? Shit.

She ran a hand through her hair and exhaled shakily, trying to keep the burning in her eyes at bay. She couldn't relive it again. Lilly endured hell with that son of a bitch, and if Meghan found a guy like that? She couldn't do it again. Lilly was a wreck, coming home from time to time with bruises and high or drunk off her ass. She pretended it was okay until she couldn't anymore. Tara couldn't see that happen to her niece. She couldn't. God, don't let this be happening again.

Tara caught the time and cursed. She had to get back. She inhaled and pulled out. If stress had a meter, she was damn sure hers would be closed to shattering. She snuffled and cleared her throat. Maybe it would okay this time. She caught it this time. Lilly would be all over this, and things would change, but it might be okay. If they could make Meghan see, give her time to absorb it, it'd be fine. It had to be, because she wasn't going to let Meghan follow in her mother's footsteps. No way. She'd get through whatever this was with help and talking, no a bottle and whatever else she'd gotten into today. They'd make sure of it. It would work out. It had to.


	9. Down A Dark Alley

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

Tara returned to the precinct, Sasha was still out interviewing the ex, and meanwhile Michonne and Rosita were trying to find a connection among the victims over dinner. Rosita had called a few pawn shops to see if the missing ring had shown up, but not hints thus far. An hour ago Tara would have wept at the sight of food, but her stomach was now tangled in knots; any whiff an appetite smashed out by the thoughts that haunted her.

Shrugging out of her overcoat, Tara rejected the offered hoagie and was caught up on their possible theories. She couldn't worry about Meghan right now. She was in good hands. She trusted Denise to take care of her, and not totally as a therapist. Denise was kinda awkward in a cute way, but she was compassionate. Meghan needed that right now. Compassion and to not be judged, to not be held against Lilly at nineteen, which Tara couldn't do. Denise could, and even if nothing came of it, Tara was grateful she had at least tried.

"Why don't we look at the ex-husband?" Tara rumbled, vaguely wavering her hand over Allison's file."

"He has an alibi." Michonne stretched her arms, remembering talking to Bruno the day they found the body. He did leave her with a peculiar feeling in her gut, like trying food that you loved with different spices. "He was out golfing when the murders went down."

Tara rubbed her eyes and glanced down at the report in front of her. "Alex had a husband, but they divorced in '02. I mean, I know it's been passed a decade, but did anybody talk to him?"

"Also alibied out." Rosita drank from her cup. "We've been through this, Tara."

"Then why do Alex and Allison have the same ex-husband?"

"What?" Michonne squinted tiredly.

"Yeah, Bruno Marks. Allison didn't take his last name, but they were married from '03 to '12." She spun the file so Rosita could see. "There's a connect."

"How did we miss that?" Rosita demanded.

"We'd only got Allison's file before ten, due to...one delay or another," Michonne stated, the exhaustion that was plaguing her clearing at the sight of a lead in the form of a link between two victims. Last night had been a long ass night; to say they were running on fumes would be understatement. Well, some of them anyway. "And we'd been here for hours trying to piece this together. We must have overlooked it. I think Lerner interviewed him the second time."

"We need to talk to this Marks again." She glanced at her two detectives. "In the morning. Right now, you two need to go home and get some sleep. We can't have any more mistakes like this one. These women deserve better than that. Sasha will be back soon, so I'll stay here and rehash it to her."

"Are you sure?" Michonne leaned forward. "I can stay."

"No, you can't. You have a family that misses you, and," her gaze turned to Tara, "you need some time. I'll see you both bright and early in the morning."

Reluctantly they filed out of the office, Tara said goodbye to Michonne and checked on Denise to see if Lilly had gotten Meghan or not. She was stunned to learn Meghan was still there, passed out on the couch, and Tara told her she'd be there soon. She was sure she'd texted Lilly to tell her about Meghan, and as she flicked through her messages, she found that it had sent. Lilly must be too overwhelmed to check her phone. So she had a stop to make on her way home.

It was nearly one when she sauntered up to Denise's door. She almost knocked, but remembered she still had the spare key. She could grab Meghan and go without waking Denise. She had paperwork, and Tara could guess she was out cold in her bed surrounded by piles of it. She would let her rest, leave a note so she didn't think Meghan ran out.

She unlocked the door and peeked inside, seeing Meghan wandering the kitchen, all cleaned up and wearing some of Denise's clothes. She could have kissed Denise for that. Meghan was already in trouble for the drinking and skipping school, but in her former...thing, Lilly would have killed her. The kid was already hurting. Tara wished she knew the cause. Maybe Denise knew. She'd have to call her tomorrow.

Meghan's eyes cut over to her aunt, and she dropped her them to the counter. "Tara's here."

Tara saw Denise rise from the couch. "You're still up?" She closed the door.

"Yeah." She smiled and stuffed her hands in the front pocket of her pants. "We...uh, spent the night talking, and we just had dinner."

"Oh. That's good. Saves me from having to throw together something." She studied her niece. "You ready to go?"

She nodded and smiled sweetly at Denise, showing Tara the kid she knew and adored. "Thanks for the clothes. I'll wash them and send them back with Tara."

"You're welcome, sweetie." Denise met Tara's eyes. "She's welcome here anytime."

Tara nodded. "Let's get you home." She closed the space between her and Denise, handing over the spare key, and she clasped Denise's hand in both of her. "Thank you. For letting me crash here and...for Meghan."

"What are friends for?"

Tara grinned. "I'm buying dinner tomorrow night for you. That place you mentioned?"

"That was my gift for you."

"Well, you've done so much for me, and I want to thank you. Your company is more than enough." Tara gave a soft smile before leaving with Meghan. She didn't want to press and end up fighting with her. She would let Meghan talk to her if she wanted to. If not, she had spoken with Denise, and that brought a sense of confidence in her about Meghan's...recovery.

"Cold?" Tara noticed the shudder that yet again passed through Meghan, raising the heat. She couldn't see her face in, not with the darkness of the car and the hair that cast a shadow over her face.

She shook her head. "Mom's going to kill me." Her voice was thick with tears, and she snuffled, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips.

"Yeah," Tara agreed, glancing occasionally at the young girl beside her, "she will. I can't lie to her about this. I'm sorry."

She shook her head again. "It was my fault. I should be punished for this." She wiped her nose on the sleeve of the jacket. "Rosita let me sit down there for...I don't know how long. She wanted me to be semi-sober when you came down. She didn't want you to see the worst of it. I know what she did for me, and...it's not right. I should take full responsibility. I made the decision, and I should live with the consequence."

"I know, and it brings me pride that you want to right this, but...let it be a warning. If this happens again, Rosita can't protect you. Neither can I." She used the red light to meet her niece's eyes. "You need to get your head on straight, okay? I'm here for you, Meghan. Your mom is here for you. I know she works impossible hours, but she loves you so much. She doesn't want this for you. It...it's gonna break her heart to hear what happened today, and I need you to stop this."

She shivered. "I know."

"What even made you skip school and drink?" Tara gently pushed, turning down their road. "Was it a guy?"

She shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat, avoiding eye contact, and Tara couldn't tell if she was embarrassed or scared. She hoped whoever it was hadn't hurt Meghan, threatened her to make her ditch school in the first place. She wasn't trying to throw blame off Meghan. She knew it was likely her own will, but if someone pressured her to drink, if someone had sweet talked her and convinced her he'd like her more if she had a sip of alcohol, Tara was going to kill them. Or at least arrest him and toss his ass in lockup for contributing to a minor. She wasn't going to let this go, because if it wasn't Meghan, it was some other kid. She wasn't going to let that happen.

"Malick." Her voice was so inaudible Tara wasn't sure she'd actually spoken, but she peeked at her aunt and repeated herself. "His name is Malick."

"You get a last name?" She parked outside the apartment and studied Meghan.

"No, and I'm pretty sure it isn't even Malick."

"Where did you meet him?"

"The library." She couldn't hold Tara's stare anymore and studied clock on the dashboard. "That's all I know. He wore a hoodie when we first met, and I—can barely remember where we were drinking."

"That's fine. I'll talk to the...cop that arrested you, see where he found you and go from there." She reached over and smoothed down her messy hair. "It'll be okay, kid."

They headed up together, Meghan unlocked the door, and they found Lilly passed out on the couch still in her work uniform. Meghan seemed relieved, and Tara softly closed the door, telling Meghan to shower and get to bed. Doing as she was instructed, the young girl disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door, listening for a moment to hear the telltale sounds of her mother waking up. She wanted to know just how pissed her mom was going to be. She had an idea, but it had to be worse than that.

"Lilly." Tara reached over and gave her a gentle shake. "Hey, wake up."

Her eyes crept open, she blinked several times before focusing on her little sister, and she sat up, reaching for her phone, hand stopping before she made contact. "Tara?"

"Hey, sleepyhead. Did you get my messages?"

"I was...about to check them." She ran a hand over her face. "I fell asleep, waiting for my phone to turn on." She giggled at that, fingering the phone lightly.

"You're overworked."

"Tell me about it." She picked up her phone and rubbed her eye. "What did I miss?"

"Well..." Tara hesitated then just blurted it out, "Meghan was arrested today for public intoxication."

Lilly gaped at her, all color draining away from her worn face. "What?"

"Yeah. She skipped school with this guy Malick, and he took her somewhere. She drank and stumbled out into the street for some air—that's when one of ours found her. Rosita let her sober up downstairs, and she handled the charges. If it happens again, she can't ignore it." She studied her sister's face, rubbing her hands together. " _I_ can't ignore it, but I'm gonna find this Malick character and deal with him. You just...need to talk to Meghan."

"Yeah. I will. Is she home?"

"She's in the shower."

Lilly didn't hear any water running until a second after Tara said shower, and she turned her head back to the bathroom door. "I'll talk to her when she's done. Thank you. And Rosita."

"It was mistake. Rosita knows that. Meghan knows that."

"You should go," Lilly ordered more than suggested. "She'll be in there a while, trying to avoid me, and as much as I appreciate what you did, it should be the two of us. I don't want her to feel like we're ganging up on her, you know?"

"I totally get it. I actually have a case right now, so I'll leave you to it." She rose. "Good luck."

Lilly walked her out, hugging her tightly and thanking her again. Tara wondered for half a second what exactly Lilly had in mind for this talk. She shook the thoughts away and decided to head back to the station. She had gotten her sleep, and she had fresh eyes. Rosita could chew her out in the morning. She had to find a relation beyond Bruno Marks and his failed marriages. There were three other women who were dead too, and it couldn't by chance. There had to be more to do this.

– – –

Sasha and Rosita were long gone, so it was just her and the office brew—not that it was very appealing. She enjoyed the silence, the cold of the office that kept her on her toes, and she also enjoyed the fact that she felt like she was finally, _finally_ seeing this case as it was.

She had tossed her coat over her chair, folding the sleeves of her blouse up to her elbows and spreading the files across her desk. She checked out Zona and Maria—the other two from the triple—and discovered they, too, were divorced. She found their husbands. An Ed Peletier had been married to Maria for ten years before she left him in 2014. He had a record: aggravated assault, drunk and disorderly, ect. He was abusive to her as well. There were pictures of her, and Tara's stomach churned with anger at them. Maria had wanted restraining order, and despite the evidence—both from the doctors who had to stitch up her jaw and reset bones and the photos—it wasn't enough. Some system they had. Even with proof, it wasn't enough.

She racked a hand through her hair and closed the file, shutting her eyes for a moment. She cleared her mind of it. Maria was gone, and there was no point wishing it had been better for her. Tara could do right by her. She was going to slap cuffs on this son of a bitch, and he would go down for life. She knew he was involved in her murder. A man like that with his temper and her struggle to get away from him? He was involved. She'd stake her shield on that.

As for Zona, her ex-husband seemed decent. A Jon James. He was clean, an accountant in New Jersey, and he had full custody now of their four-year-old. He was seen at his daughter's daycare around the time of the murders; some event they had going. He didn't seem to have any connection thus far to Ed or Bruno, but that didn't mean he didn't somehow know them or wasn't involved. The clean guys weren't always so squeaky. Tara would have to call him in tomorrow, see if he had anymore information on Zona and who would want to hurt her. He hadn't given much information in the first interviewed. Maybe he remembered more now. Or maybe he'd slip up.

She attached the pictures of Ed, Bruno and Jon on the murder board as possible suspects. It was unlikely two men murdered or had a hand in murdering their ex-wives, but it wasn't beyond the realm of possibilities. To be honest the murders weren't the strangest part of this. The perplexing and curious part was where and how in the hell did a trucker like Ed would cross paths with an accountant like Jon and a store manager like Bruno. They were nowhere near each other on any level, so how in the hell did they all wind up with dead ex-wives?

She stepped back and observed their pictures, as if the new angle that showed all three faces would shed light on this case. It couldn't be coincidence. It just couldn't be. She looked over the reports filled out with their statements, and she noticed how similarly vague they were. Her brows furrowed as she ran her eyes over the reports taken by _three different officers_ but had practically the same words.

She moistened her lips and found the report Sasha had filled out on Lolly's ex, Lloyd Wyce. It wasn't like the other three. It was all over the place, and she knew Sasha saw him as a suspect too.

Tara taped his picture beside Jon's and crossed her arms. Lloyd didn't seem to fit in with the other three. He was practically a kid who could barely hold down the job he had now. She could see where he might have come across Ed and Bruno, but not Jon. He was a fan of the bottle, or so Sasha's note stated, so he could have found Ed at a bar. She was reaching, but it could have happened. He had actually run into Bruno at his store; Lloyd had been arrested a few times for his sticky fingers at that place.

So there was a connection between Lloyd and Bruno. It didn't mean much, but it did when both of their exes had been savagely killed. Maybe Bruno wanted to see how much further into crime Lloyd was willing to get, so he...had him kill his exes, giving Lloyd a taste for blood. _He goes back for Lolly, they have words and he kills her, just like Alex and Allison_ , Tara speculated.

"Couldn't stay away?"

Tara spun around, hand over her heart at the sound of Sasha's voice. "Christ!"

Sasha smirked, holding her hands up in a gesture of peace. "Oops. Didn't mean to spook you."

"What are you doing here?" She calmed her racing heart. "Apart from trying to give me a stroke."

"I couldn't sleep. Plus Porter finally called." She held out the results. "That skin under Allison's nails? It's Marks'. Sent uniforms to pick him up."

"What?" She flipped through the report.

"Yeah." She handed her a large coffee she'd picked up for them. She knew Tara would be here working late as she knew her husband would still be with his patients at the hospital. "I figured you'd be here. I brought some food too, for later."

"Thanks." She accepted it. "I have a theory, but...this kinda debunks it."

"Lay it on me, Chambler." She sat on the edge of her desk, drinking her coffee. "Maybe we can smooth out the cracks."

Tara rehashed her theory and how she thought Lloyd and Bruno were linked, and Sasha intently listened. "I thought maybe Lloyd worked up the courage to confront Lolly, they fight, and he snaps."

"Huh." She set her coffee down. "I think you're right. At least about the ex-wives. Lloyd doesn't seem smart enough to kill these women and not leave anything behind."

"Well, Bruno left behind DNA." She tapped her finger to the picture on the board. "Maybe he killed Alex and...wanted more, so he went for his other ex. I dunno."

Sasha rested her elbows on her knees, feet propped up in the spare chair beside her desk. "So, they're connected through the murders. There has to be something we're not seeing."

"Well, Lolly and Lloyd were never married, so it can't be the ex-wife thing. It must be an _ex_ thing." She tossed the results on the desk and drank deeply from her coffee.

Sasha sighed. "Do you have backgrounds on these men?"

"Only Peletier, the piece of shit."

"What high school did he go to?"

"Uhh..." Tara flipped through his file and scanned it, verbalizing the name when she came across it. "Why do you want to know this?"

"I keep in contact with a few friends in high school," she replied. "We're practically family, you know. We'd do anything for other."

"Including murdering your exes?"

"You get drunk enough or angry enough, anything starts to sound like a good idea." She picked up the phone, dialing. "Once in college, my friends were so, so wasted, and they thought it'd be a good idea to microwave rocks. Well, half them did. The other half broke into the chem lab to run tests on the rocks."

"I bet that went well."

"Yeah." She chuckled. "They ended up breaking a couple hundred bucks worth of beakers, and they owed me a new microwave. _Still_ owe me a microwave actually. I might have to cash that in. The one we have now is looking rough."

Tara could feel the urge to laugh but didn't take it up. She instead dropped in her chair and rubbed her temples, wondering if she had a headache from work or from the caffeine or the poor lighting in the squad room or all of the above. She moaned softly, wanting this cased closed yesterday. They might have a lead now, if these men knew each other from school. Hell, even if two of them knew each other, it was more than they had an hour ago. _Lead somewhere. For the sake of the victims and for the sake of potential victims_ , she pleaded, _please just lead somewhere._

Sasha hung up the phone. "You wanna take a road trip?"

"To?" Tara placed her hands on her hips.

"New Jersey. It'll be time normal people wake up by the time we get there." She hopped up and shrugged into her coat. "Jon and Ed went to school together."

"Who did you call?" Tara followed suit.

"Someone who might kill me when she gets in," was all Sasha replied followed by, "I should pick up some coffee on the way back. Know any good coffee places?"

"Yeah, I know a couple." She gathered the files and fell into steps with Sasha, chuckling. "You called Grimes, didn't you?"

"Well, let's just say if we weren't leaving, I might not make it into work tomorrow." She opened the door for Tara.

Tara recalled what day it was, knowing Michonne often had to duck out early to tend to the kids, and given the state of this case and her not leaving early, that meant Rick was left with all three. He had to tend to them, cook, clean, bath Judy, and make sure the boys were clean, and their teeth brushed. He had to do that all by himself, so that meant when Sasha called and woke Michonne it couldn't only be because they were cutting in on her sleep. Tara adjusted her scarf loosely around her neck. "You woke up Judith, didn't you?"

She flashed a tight smile, and Tara blew out a sight, knowing the toddler was already a challenge to put to bed, and Tara knew exactly which coffee place they would stop on the way back. Only the best would pacify Michonne now. She might pick one up for Rick too. Maybe. It was pretty pricey, and she already had a date with Denise, so maybe she would leave it to Sasha. She did make the call in the first place. Or they could go in half. This might be what they needed to blow this case wide open. Michonne would forgive them for that.

––

Tara felt something warm drift over to her face, the rich scent of coffee filling her nose, and she could hear laughter in the back of her mind. She saw a smile and remembered the sweet dough of a pastry fresh on her tongue, a soft blue material with the scent of plumb. " _...mmm..._ "

"Are you alive?" Sasha waved the coffee under Tara's nose again. "Hello?"

That voice did not match the face smiling in her dreams, and Tara jolted in her seat, finding Sash studying her curiously, thankfully amused by this reaction and not vexed. Tara blinked rapidly to combat the fatigue trying to settle back over her eyelids. She had gotten enough sleep on the drive here. She should be awake. God, sleeping in a car was a nightmare when you get older. Or maybe everything was just easier as a kid.

Sasha's amusement rose as Tara groused and rubbed her back. "You okay there?"

"I think being shot with a vest on is more comfortable." She released her seat belt and accepted the coffee, taking a generous drink and recoiling at the taste, her nose wrinkling. "Nothing like gas station coffee."

"It's not my fault someone buys fancy coffee every morning."

"Not every morning," she corrected, taking another drink.

"Hungry?" She offered up a biscuit wrapped in white paper. "I had one. It wasn't half bad."

"Thank you." She cleared her throat and accepted the food, unwrapping it, grease filming itself over her fingertips. "So, where can we find Jon?"

"He drops his kid off at daycare around this time then goes to work." Sasha gulped down a hearty drink from her own cup. "I say we meet at the daycare. Kid'll need someone to stay."

"Am I driving?"

"I can keep going, if you need more sleep, Aurora."

"Hey, I don't need or want a man to wake me up from a permanent and possibly death defying coma. It might the first time I sleep well, and I would have to kick his ass." Sasha laughed. "I'm not even joking right now."

Sasha continued to chuckle at her, Tara munched away at her breakfast, and Sasha got the location of the daycare, finding the fastest route and letting Tara take the wheel.

– – –

Rosita had received a call from Williams and Chambler early that morning about their trip to Jersey, and Rosita signed off on it, having to enter work even earlier than expected. She had hoped to get a little time, an hour or two, to do more than shower and eat. She had caught a couple hours sleep here, or would have, had she not had someone to keep her eye on.

Grimes would be in in an hour, having to drop the kids off at school and daycare while Rick went to work a robbery downtown. Rosita had assured her it'd be okay to take an extra hour, but Grimes was adamant. She'd spend most of her night trying to put Judy down again. She and Rick had spend a good two hours trying before the poor girl passed out. Rosita suggested singing to her, humming at least, but no one took her word for it. From her experience, it worked like a charm.

Out in the the bullpen, high on energy she didn't know he could continue to have, was her own son. Five years old and a handful. He was su corazón, the best part of her life, and she would sell her soul to spend even an hour undisturbed with him. Sadly work didn't allow that. The precious few hours they had together consisted of bedtime stories and late dinners. It was no wonder she couldn't get sole custody. She honestly couldn't even be upset about the decision. Moreover his father was too good a father to be left to the wayside.

Those chestnut curls bobbing around as he ran to and fro, playing with a toy he'd gotten last night from his abuela, those light and joyous chocolate eyes danced with laughter that spilled from his mouth that resembled his father's. That adorable nose that was exactly like his mother's at that age snuffling as he came toward her office, snot ran down his chin, and he asked for a tissue.

Rosita chuckled and lifted him up onto her desk, wiping his chin and his nose. "There." She beamed, though it didn't meet her eyes as his typically bronze skin was flush, and she pressed her lips to his forehead, feeling a slight temperature. "Pobre bebé, you're not feeling well." She smoothed his hair down. "Daddy will be here soon."

Those round chocolate orbs met hers and his arms folded, "No."

"No?" Rosita brushed his soft curls out of his face. "You don't want to see Daddy?"

"I want you, Mommy."

He was only five, but he knew that Daddy coming meant he wasn't going to see her for a while. It broke her heart, but she had no choice. She had a killer to find and toss in jail, two detectives down in Jersey, one still on leave from a shot to the shoulder, and Lerner was assigned to another case. It was only her and Grimes holding down the fort, and if Alejándro wasn't sick, he'd be welcome to stay. She'd have to lock him in her office—or try, as he was a slippery comadreja—to shield him from the murder board. God, the last time she forgot, he had nightmares for weeks, and Spencer about chewed her head off. It was an accident. She thought Michonne head cleared it. This time she yanked down the crime scene pictures and tossed them into a random desk.

"Lo sé, bebé." She kissed his forehead, repeating herself in English, "I know." He knew bits of Spanish but mostly English. Spencer had agreed that he should be aware of his culture and the language, even to the point of learning Spanish to speak around Alejándro when she wasn't around. He wanted him to pick up on it—and English, too—because it was part of who he was. Besides her entire family spoke Spanish, and Spencer knew how it felt to be lost when they started in English and ended in Spanish before he learned, and he didn't want Alejándro to feel excluded. She respected him even more for that.

"All right." She helped him off the desk. "Go play. Stay within my sight."

He took off out of the office like a shot, and she rubbed her eye lightly with her fingertips, expelling a breath. She ran her eyes over the file on her desk and put it on hold until Grimes came. Chambler and Williams may find out more. They had a theory, and Rosita was too busy packing Alejándro's bag to hear it at the moment, so they informed Grimes. She'd hear it from her when she came in.

She leaned in the doorway and smiled at her son. "Be careful, bebé."

"I am."

"Yeah, you said that last time and you got a black eye, 'cause you ran into a desk."

He sent her a foul yet pouting look, and her smile widened. "Fine."

Well, she'd gotten _the_ look, so she must be doing something right. She used to give her own mother that look about fifteen times a day growing up. God, her mother was right. If she ever went nuts and tried to deny that this was her son, there would be no way in hell anyone would believe her.

"Good morning."

Her heart nearly stopped at the voice, but it collected itself when her brain processed it was a female voice, not male. He wasn't here yet. Thank God. "Hey." She turned to Denise. "What are you doing here?"

"Denise!" Alejándro cried and ran to her. "Hi!"

"Hi." She bent down. "You've gotten so big." She grinned at him. "You're adorable." She reached into her purse and handed him an oatcake. It looked like a Star Crunch cookie, so she knew he'd eat it. He wasn't picky by any means, so he'd eat it regardless, but she liked to think she was tricking him. He needed the protein to keep Spencer on edge. "Don't eat it all at once."

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" He took it and climbed into a chair, setting his toy down on the desk and opening the baggie.

"You're welcome, buddy." She closed the space between her and Rosita, feeling the need to explain the oatcake. "I knew he'd be here, working himself into need a snack, and I made a few last night. Plus I never get to see him, and I wanted him to remember me at least a little as the nice lady who gave him a cookie."

"Heh. Well, I know the feeling." She watched him engulf the oatcake. "Slow down, or you'll upset your stomach." He deliberately chewed in slow motion to appease her, and she crinkled her nose at him. "God, why does he take after me so much?"

Denise laughed. "It's precious."

"Yeah, it won't be when he's a teenager." She met her eyes. "So, how did you know I'd be here?"

"Sasha called. She asked me to come down and babysit."

"Spencer's on his way." She felt her frowning at Denise's answer. "And Sasha shouldn't know I have Alejándro."

"She said it was related to the case, and I'm free today, so I don't think she meant Al."

"You're doing it now too?" She groaned. "Damn it, Spencer."

She smiled apologetically and held her hands out. "Sorry. I forgot you don't like the nickname, but you trying saying Alejándro every time you talk about him."

"I do." She pressed her lips together. Spencer had given him the nickname a year ago, and it was starting to stick. Like an ass to a chair smothered in gorilla glue. She wasn't happy with it. She liked his full name, and he knew he was named after her deceased grandfather, but he still kept trying to utilize the nickname. He kept trying to call her Rose or Ro too, but one smack to the back of the head stopped that. His reflexes have since improved, so a sharp smack to stop the Al nickname ended with him catching her hand and rumpled sheets. It wasn't one of her finest moments, but damn it, sometimes when he smiled at her— _like_ _that_ —she couldn't keep herself in check. Asshole knew it too. Luckily she knew he couldn't resist her Spanish, the way it rolled off her tongue, so she messed him with as payback.

"Again I'm sorry. I'll stop." She removed her purse. "He looks pale. Is he coming down with something?"

"I think so. Ma...let him make snowmen with his cousins, and a couple of them have colds, one has the flu, and he's been coughing and snuffling all day. Spencer's taking him to the pediatrician at nine. He'll be here any minute."

"You're not going?"

She threw her arms up to gesture at the bullpen. "Someone's gotta hold down the fort."

"Where is everybody?" She knew it was hushed, but she assumed they were all out working the case. If that were so, Michonne being the senior detective would take charge over the others so Rosita could take Alejándro to the doctor's. Clearly that wasn't the case.

"Michonne has to take the boys to school, Judy to daycare, pick up coffee and breakfast. Noah won't be back until two months, give or take. Tara and Sasha are picking up a suspect in New Jersey, and Dawn is working another case with her partner. Some rookie. I don't know her name."

"A lot of women here," Denise commented.

"I thought you, of all people, would admire that," Rosita teased.

She snickered. "Well, I do, but...not so much lately."

"Why? Someone caught your eye?" She kept an eye on Alejándro as he climbed from chair to chair, the half eaten oatcake lay forgotten on the desk with the plastic dinosaur.

"No." The blush that stained her normally olive cheeks said otherwise.

"Someone _has_ gotten your attention then." She smirked. "You don't have to tell me anything. If she's an asshole, I'll have to kick her ass, just so you know."

"She's not...an asshole, not by any means."

"Hmm. I hope she's treats you right. You deserve someone good." She caught her son as he began to climb over Michonne's desk and set him on the floor. "This one will be the death of me."

"It'll be a good death." Denise mussed his hair as he retrieved his dinosaur. "And thanks."

"It's the truth. Both things." Her smile faded suddenly.

Denise turned and found Spencer entering the bullpen, and she made herself scarce.

"Daddy!" Alejándro ran to greet him, and Spencer scooped him up.

"Hey, mi hijo." He grinned at him.

"You are so white." Rosita dragged her feet over to him. "Mi _hijo_."

He gave a laugh. "I'm trying, all right?"

"Just don't say it in front of my mother. She'll spend the day trying to correct you."

"I don't doubt it." He adjusted his son in his arms. "Do you have his bag?"

"Yeah, it's in my office." She waved him back and pulled the overnight bag out from under her desk, handing it to him. "His toys are all in there, and I washed his clothes, so don't have to."

"Thanks. That saves me some time." He shouldered the bag. "I'll call when the appointment's over, let you talk to him."

She nodded and stepped closer, grasping Alejándro's hand. "I'll see you later, okay?"

His head was nestled on his father's shoulder, like all of his energy had oozed out of him, and it made her chest ache. It wasn't a bad sign. He was sick, and he'd spent a good portion of the morning bolting around, so his weariness wasn't appearing out of thin air. She wanted so badly to go with him, to smooth his hair down and assure him it'd be all right. She wanted to make him soup and cuddle him while reading to him or watching his favorite movie. Damn this job sometimes!

He nodded. "Okay, Mommy."

She kissed his forehead. "Te quiero, mi amor." She locked eyes with Spencer. "Call me right after."

"You have my word." He kissed her forehead. "Take care of yourself too, Rosita. You're not looking so healthy either."

"I'm fine." She brushed off his concern. "Just take care of him."

"Always." He searched her eyes and lowered his voice to whisper in her ear. "Say you'll come over after work, before he's in bed and make him soup. You know he loves your soup more anyone else's. We...can read him to sleep. You know he loves that, and he could use it too."

Blinking back tears of guilt, she shook her head. "You know I can't say."

"At least try." He sounded hurt, and she didn't say anything. "Please?"

"I can't." She stepped back. "Go, or you'll be late."

He sighed. "I'll call you after."

She pulled out a smile for her son. "Be good, okay? I'll see you soon, mi corazón." She watched them leave, Spencer draped his son's discarded coat over him and grasped the abandoned toy on his way out. She closed her eyes tightly to force the tears back, and she drew in a long breath, trying to shake this feeling off. She cursed under her breath and opened her eyes, wanting to break something. She wanted to scream and just beat the shit out of the fucker who killed these women. She wanted to be with her son, not here, but Alejándro at Spencer, and these women...only had her. Well, her and her squad.

"Rosita?" It was Michonne. She had seen Spencer and Alejándro on her way in, so she knew what was going on with her captain right now. "I brought coffee." There was no pointing asking how she was.

"Good. Let's find this hijo de puta."

– – –

"I don't see why I have to go all the way to New York," Jon complained from the backseat. "I have an alibi. Please, I have to get to work, and my daughter needs to be in daycare!"

"Well, we need you look at few things, and damn if we forgot the file," Sasha nonchalantly shot back. "We'll have you back real soon."

He huffed and folded his arms. "This is ludicrous. I haven't spoken to my ex since we were divorced. I don't know who was in her life."

"Really? You had no desire to know who was lurking around your kid?" Tara arched a disbelieving brow at him.

"She wasn't dating," he retorted. "I had no reason to worry."

"With her dead," Sasha commented, "you have full custody of your daughter. Did you try for that before?"

"Yes, of course. She's my child. She... Zona was a good person, don't get me wrong, but she was a careless mother. I had to do what was best for my daughter."

"What do you mean?"

He blinked. "I tried to take sole custody, but of course they sided with the mother. I got weekends and holidays. It was bullshit. She could barely take care of herself. It's no wonder she..." He sighed and focused his attention to the scenery outside the window.

Tara and Sasha exchanged a glance, continuing the drive back to New York. It was quicker this time, not having to drive slow so they didn't drive off the road while blacking out from exhaustion. Okay, Tara blacking out. Sasha made her get out about twenty minutes into the drive. Exhaustion mixed with darkness wasn't a good combination, and she was grateful when Sasha took the wheel. Bit a lead foot, but no more than Noah, which was why Tara drove when it was the two of them.

They had to wait for morning, because they had to inform Rosita of this little grip. They'd spaced and neglected to so beforehand, and they wanted to let her sleep a bit so she wouldn't kill them through the phone and go off in a tirade of Spanish and vexation at how ignorant and impulsive they'd been. They wanted the girl as well. If they were right about Jon, the girl should go to Zona's mother, who was in New York. Thanks to his outburst, Tara was certain they got the right man. One of.

Working the knot out of her back, Tara mentally cursed Sasha. She didn't want to pitch in for a hotel room, so in the car they slept. Or maybe Tara just slept while Sasha shot up espresso or something, because she was _still_ going. Tara's sleeping schedule was messed up, however; it was no surprise she blacked out for so long, but what was Sasha's excuse? Did she have the quickest and most rejuvenating power nap in the history of the world when Tara wasn't looking? Seriously, how was she still alive and functioning?

Beside their suspect sat his little girl, buckled up in her car seat, playing some reading game on a tablet, ear buds in so she couldn't hear their conversation. Tara beamed at her. She was such a cutie, the spiting image of her mother, for sure, with that platinum blonde hair and those bright hazel eyes.

Once back in New York, Sasha drove to the precinct where Michonne had Lloyd Wyce in interviewed room B, so Sasha escorted Jon to A, and Tara led little Hannah to the lounge where Denise was. She would have Denise keep an eye on her until they got her grandma down here.

"Aww, aren't you precious?" Denise smiled at the small girl. "Hi. I'm Denise."

Bashful as she was, she hid behind Tara's leg, and Tara chuckled. "This is Hannah. Hannah, Denise is a good friend, and she's gonna watch you for a bit, okay?"

"Where's Daddy?" she mumbled.

"He's right out there, but we need to talk to him, and we need you to be a big girl and wait here." She brushed hair from her face. "Okay? Can you do that?"

She nodded. "Okay."

"I have some Crayons," Denise pointed to the table beside them. "Bet you can draw really well." She nodded again. "Would you make me something?"

"Okay." She came out from behind Tara's leg. "What would you like?"

"I like elephants," she answered. "Blue's my favorite color."

"Mine too." She smiled at her. "And purple."

Denise glanced up at Tara to let her know she had this, Tara mouthed _thank you_ and scurried out before Michonne and Sasha divvied up the interviews, and Denise led Hannah to the table, helping her into the chair.

"So, what do we have?" Rosita scanned the faces of her detectives.

"Jon in A, Lloyd in B," Michonne responded. "Lerner went to find Peletier. He's gone missing."

"Not surprising. How about Bruno?"

"He managed to duck the uniforms I sent to his house." Sasha leaned against her desk. "Told a friend he'd put in his notice, that he was leaving for a good. He didn't state where he was going. He's in the wind."

"They're running, so they were in on this together. We need to know where they might go, and I bet one of them knows." Rosita dropped her hands to her hips. "Okay, I want Jon. Michonne, Tara, why don't you have a go with Lloyd? Sasha, stay here in case Lerner comes back."

"I could take Lloyd alone," Tara stated, not a trace of cockiness in her tone. "He has the IQ of a rock."

"Don't insult rocks," Sasha mused.

"Fine, but Michonne's to watch from Observation. Let's get this over with."

They exchanged looks at their captain's impatience but nodded in concordance. Sasha made herself comfortable at her desk, and Michonne headed into Observation as Tara and Rosita sat across their respective suspects. Michonne knew Tara had this in the bag, but she worried about Rosita. She was raging, and she wasn't taking it out on the right person. In some way, yes, she had a right to be pissed at these sons of bitches, but in another she didn't need to be so hostile. However she sympathized with Rosita; she knew she'd be the same way if Judith was sick. She, Rick and Lori would be together in that little room making sure their daughter was okay. Rosita needed this to be over, and for her sake, for the sake of the victims, Michonne hoped it would be over by day's end as well.

"Here we are again." Tara rested her arms on the table. "Feel like sharing anything?"

"What's to share?" He rhythmically rasped his thumbs on the metal table.

"Well, since you asked." She opened the file to find the picture of Jon. "Care to share how you know Jon James?"

"Who?" He pushed back so the front legs of his chair were off the floor.

"Jon James." She browsed the file and slid his driver's license photo over to him. "Remember him now?"

"No _p_ e." He popped the p. "Why? Is he the one who whacked Lolly?"

"No, we believe he killed his own wife—Zona Matthews." She showed a picture of Zona.

"That sucks."

"Why do you say that? Because of the four-year-old she left behind who'll never know her mother?"

"No, she's hot. Piece of tail like that—"

Tara slammed her foot into the leg of his chair, he doubled over onto the floor with a surprised yelp, and she walked around the table. "Enough of your games, Lloyd. I know you killed her—killed Lolly." She grasped him by his collar and hauled him upright, feeling him quiver under her gaze. "Why'd you do it? Because she wouldn't marry you? Huh? Was that it?"

He said nothing, simply stare with wide eyes, like he'd swallowed his tongue when he fell.

"She had your kid—your little boy—but she wouldn't let you marry her. She didn't want to be attached to you or your name beyond your son, and if I recall correctly, he has _her_ last name. In fact, he doesn't even know you exist."

A vein in his neck began to throw, a red flush began to cloak his cheeks, and she could see him grounding his teeth.

"All you were good for was ten seconds. That's all it took, right? Guys like you can't really do much—that's not being rude, I'm speaking from experience—and she knew that. She found out firsthand. She knew she had her son for the rest of her life and was overjoyed. But the thought of having to sleep with you for the next however many years—or months—of your marriage was sickening. It wasn't an option. She already had to bust her ass at a crappy job to take care of her son, and now she had an uneventful sex life to top that off? A deadbeat dad who didn't answer the phone when his son was on the way, because he was too busy playing pool in a goddamn bar." Her voice was sharp and cocky, but it was giving her the results she needed. "Good riddance, I say."

"You don't know shit, bitch!" he spat, trying to get free and attack her, but Tara slammed him against a wall, restricting his movements with her free arm, the other digging into his collarbone as he seethed acrimoniously. "You're just like her! Greedy bitch wouldn't even give me the ring back! _I paid for that_! _It was mine_! Just like _my son_!"

She smirked. "Oh, yeah?"

"Cocky ass cunt wouldn't let me see him. She thought she was too good for me now. Got an office job, making good money, moved out of her parents home into that _house._ " His disdain at her moving up in the world dripped from his voice. "I knew she was low, but fucking her boss for those digs? Tssh. She exposed my son to bastards like that, but wouldn't let me, his flesh and blood, his own father, around him? Bitch got what she deserved, trying to keep me from what was mine."

"So, you took 'em back?"

"Bet your ass I did. She stood there in that green dress on her way to dinner with her stupid neighbor, still wearing _my_ ring, trying to "explain" how keeping him from me was the best thing for him. Teesh, damn near broke her finger takin' back what was mine."

"Well, you just placed yourself at the crime scene." She released him, a red ring around his neck from the collar she'd been gripping, and she stepped back. "And you _did_ break her finger, you scumbag."

He clenched his jaw. "I want a lawyer."

"Oh, it's too late for that." She picked up his chair. "Sit your ass down."

He plopped down in the chair, head ducked down, trying to dig his way out of this hole. Tara could see the gears turning and turning in his hollow head, and she splayed her hands on the table. She could hear him gulp, and she knew this was it. There was nowhere else for him to run.

"So, you went over there to prove yourself, she didn't want anything to do with you and you killed her, took the ring, planned to take back your son. Is that about right?"

"Ain't nearly as simple as that," he corrected.

"What do you mean?"

He moistened his lips. "All I ask is that I see my boy. All I got are pictures."

"You talk, and I'll have him here in ten minutes." She sat down. "Well?"

"We did fight and all, but I was gonna kill her regardless."

"To get the ring back? And your son?"

"Nah, it's bigger than that. I mean, that was part of the plan, but... I had to prove myself."

She frowned, brow creasing. "What do you mean, prove yourself?"

"To the guys. I had to show them I was good enough to be there too. There weren't gonna let me be with them, but I proved myself anyway."

"Who are "the guys"?"

"I dunno their names, but I know where they're at."

"Okay. Where is that?"

He told her about the warehouse, Tara called in Sasha to get him to write down his confession, Michonne lingered in Observation, and Tara checked out the warehouse, making sure it was legitimate before they brought down the heat.

In interview room B, Rosita dug into Jon James relentlessly, and he struggled to answer her questions before she cut him off, showing him picture after picture after picture of his ex-wife's dead body. He turned away and begged her to stop, to let him speak, and finally— _finally_ —he couldn't take it. He couldn't. Not when she showed him the one picture that wasn't even gruesome. It was of Hannah and Zona at the part, back when they were happy, on his birthday. It was his favorite picture of them.

"You don't understand what it was like," he began, his hands shaking as he brought the picture closer to him.

"What what was like? Murdering the mother of your child?" She was all but snarling at him.

"No, living with Zona. She...was healthy for a long time, took her meds every day, but...when we found out we were pregnant, she stopped. And she refused to start taking them again, even after she had Hannah. I...thought she was getting better, taking them again, until I come home one day, and Hannah's screaming her head off. Zona's nowhere in sight." His lips quivered. "I...found her in the park, spaced out...real confused. She kept talking about giants. _The giants came_. I dunno what it meant."

"That was never mentioned in the hearing."

"I didn't tell anybody," he snapped. "They—they would've taken her away, and I didn't want that. She was just...lost, and she needed her medication. I made her take them, and she did good. She was doing really great, but...we weren't. I tried to explain how she would endanger Hannah during the custody hearing. I tried to explain how she couldn't raise a child by herself, but that—that damn judge wouldn't listen to me. I just wanted what was best for my daughter."

"So, you killed her? To get sole custody?" She curled her lips at him, her eyes clouded with repugnance.

He shook his head, a wry smile on his lips, tears shimmering in his eyes. "I...I couldn't hurt her. She was...my first love. I would never hurt her."

"Then how did she wind up stabbed over forty times? Head bashed in? Posed like a damn doll? Hmm?"

"She would have killed Hannah," he murmured, his eyes wide and unfocused. "She would have hurt her one day. I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't risk losing her too. She's my baby girl. My child. I had to protect to her. It had to happen...didn't it? Didn't they...have to?"

"They?" Rosita stared at him. "They who? Did you hire someone to kill Zona?"

"It had to happen..." His continued to enlarge, his hands quivering now, a sheen of tears flashing before descending down his colorless face. "I had to protect my daughter."

Michonne knocked on the glass, Rosita rose and exited the room, finding Chambler and Grimes waiting for her. She asked them what they had, trying to shake that interview from her system.

"Lloyd said there was a warehouse they would meet. It was like a murder your ex-wife club, or some shit. I got the address."

"Is it legitimate?"

"Yes, and very obscure." Tara folded her arms. "It's abandoned, the area known for drug trafficking and body dumping, among other things."

"Did Lloyd say why they did this?"

"They all had their reasons," Tara remarked. "Lloyd was trying to prove he was worthy, that he could be in their "club", so he killed Lolly. Didn't matter though. They weren't married, so he didn't fit the criteria. He flipped on them pretty quick."

"Or they made him say that. They could've feed him lines."

"We won't know unless we go," Michonne declared. "I'll take Tara while you get a confession out of Jon. Zona's mom's on her way in, and Denise will be here to meet her."

"Take Williams too," Rosita commanded. "There could be more than two. If this...group was recruiting, there might be initiates who have to prove themselves, who will actually be accepted. I'll hold down the fort. You need backup or see more than you can handle...don't hesitate—call it in."

"Yes, ma'am."

– – –

The three of them hurried out of the building to the nearest car, Rosita regrouped and had Lloyd taken to booking. She returned to get a confession out of Jon James and took a different approached to get this distraught man before her to talk.

"I have a son."

His misty eyes met hers. "You do?"

"Yeah. He's five. He's...the most important thing in my life." She smiled blissfully, naturally. "When I first laid eyes on him, I knew there wouldn't be anything I loved as much as him. He's...a piece of me, and I ache when I'm away from him for too long, you know?"

He nodded in understanding.

"Me and his father are separated. We were never married to begin with, but we're trying to make it work for our son. With my hours...it's more than challenging—it's damn near undoable. I want to be with him now. He's sick, but I have to work, so he's with his dad. Do you...know that feels like? He needs me, but...I can't there. I want to be there, but..." She dropped off, shaking her head and keeping her emotions in check. "I feel like there's been a hole carved inside of me. It's only getting worse with every passing second."

"You should be with him."

"Like you should been with your daughter," she agreed. "A parent should be there for their child, to take care of them and love them, but Zona couldn't even do that for herself. Could she?"

"No." His eyes emptied at the memories, his hands unable to be quieted. "I begged her to back off. Hannah was happier with me, and she could have visited. I wouldn't have kept Hannah from her. She just...wouldn't back down."

"So you had to do whatever it took to protect your daughter."

"But I failed," his voice was unstable. "I couldn't do it."

"No?"

"I was supposed to. I was just so livid and easily coerced. I thought I was going to set her free, you know? I wouldn't let her giants get her. But when I looked into her eyes...all I saw was our daughter looking at me—terrified, pleading, confused. Zona...was on her medication again. She was all there for Hannah, and I couldn't do it. She was trying, like I was trying, for Hannah, and I couldn't."

Rosita watched tears slid down his cheeks. "What happened next?"

"Ed and I had gone to school together," he asserted. "We were on the same baseball team, and we had all the same classes practically the entire four years. We were best friends. Popular. Who the girls wanted to date. We had it all...but in college, Ed wouldn't hack it. He couldn't find his place as easily as he had in high school, so he dropped out. I didn't. I kept on and become who I am today.

"We stopped talking when I graduated, but we met again at a school reunion. He told me about his life, and I told him about my girls. We kept in touch after that, and so one night we were blowing off steam, Ed joked that we should kill our ex-wives. Or soon-to-be, as I was in the middle of a divorce. I laughed and said he was crazy, but...this other guy, one of Ed's friends from the road or somewhere, liked that idea. He wanted to make his exes pay. Alex for moving on when he couldn't, and Allison was suing him for alimony."

"And Ed?"

"Maria wasted years of his life, and he couldn't them back, he'd be damned if he let her just...walk away." He cleared his throat. "I didn't...know what I would be getting into. One night after Zona got full custody, I...hit the bar and got wasted. They took advantage of that, lured our wives...to that warehouse and...Bruno and Ed just went to town, like it was the most natural thing to do. They'd laid out plastic to keep fibers from getting on the bodies, and they made sure their hair and skin was covered. It was...horrifying, brutal, unnecessary and cold-blooded. I wish to God I could go back to that night and stop them. Call the cops. Call...hell, anybody. I should have stopped it. I should have stopped it."

"So, Ed killed Maria and Bruno killed Alex? Who did Lolly?"

"Ed. He...said he'd do it for me. 'Consider it a gift from an old friend', he'd said as he...bashed her head in after..." More tears, and he squeezed his eyes shut. "She was begging, reaching for me, but I couldn't move. I could—couldn't help her. I just watched as he killed her!" He broke down then, burying his face in his hands.

After he calmed down, Rosita had him write it out on a legal pad, and when he finished writing down every gory detail, he lifted his head to meet her eyes and inquired, "How do I tell my little girl...I'm the reason she had to grow up without a mother? And a father?"

"Well, you have fourteens years to figure that out." She rose out of her chair and pulled the cuffs free from her belt.


	10. Rest

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

––

"I don't see anything." Tara scanned the warehouse. "I can smell every dead animals that's died here for the past fifty years, and I think it's burning into my vision."

"Well, they have to be in there. Their cars are parked here, and there's been no movement. Our informant said as much." Sasha released the clasp on her holster inside her jacket so her gun could be accessed in an instant. "One of us should hang back, keep an eye on everything."

"I'll lead," Michonne instructed. "I've done it before. I am the senior detective, so no arguing."

"Sasha has better eyes," Tara pointed out. "I'm good up close, but she sees movement ten yards away. She should watch our backs. I'd feel safer knowing you're out here."

"All right. Be careful."

Tara edged toward the building without giving a reply, Sasha and Michonne had a conversation with one look—after years of being partners, they could practically read each others minds—for Michonne to keep part of her attention on Tara, and Michonne caught to her as they neared the building. Sasha kept her phone and gun at the ready.

The warehouse appeared to be like one from a horror movie. The wind brought wave of what they could only discern as spoiled meat, or more likely given the murders that may have taken place here, rotting flesh. The exterior of the warehouse was stained from the weather that had beaten it down to this rusted, unusable state. There had to be more than once entrance, although a well placed kick to the side could send a wall caving down, but it would cause noise. They needed to be as shadows, to disappeared in place sight.

Michonne took point and found what the men had used as a meanings of coming and going, and she ducked underneath, motioning for Tara to follow. It was too dark to see anything, and despite needing to be sneaky, being blinded was far too great of a risk. She flicked on her flashlight, using its light to lead their way, and she came across the murder site.

On layers of plastic sheets was a semi-crusted pool of blood, bits of hair, skin, and shoe prints left in the dried blood. In some bits of flesh there were maggots, writhing around on their meal, nesting and breeding. Flies filled the air above the sheets, and Michonne clenched her jaw tighter, scanning the room, her guard on high alert.

Tara groaned and covered her nose. She could almost see the victims lying there, trying to escape, trying to reason with their captors, pleading for their lives, playing on any small shred of humanity left inside of them. She couldn't imagine the type of monster you had to be to do something like this and live with yourself. They would do this again, she knew. It would only get worst from here, and if they found others, if they acquired a following, they would be impossible to stop. Deathly. Dangerous. Driven. Everywhere. This had to stop, right here, right now.

Tara could make out red and blonde and black hairs clinging to the blood, and her mouth dried out. Flashes of Lizzie Samuels lying on the old ground playing in her mind, blue eyes skyward and lifeless, lips parted as though she had wanted to plead her case, fingers that once held a gun curled around the vacancy, the violent red of her lifeblood glaring against her paling skin.

Then that image began to jerk and disintegrate, and in its place was Meghan. Her hair in that curly, frizzy state it was when Tara saw her in the lobby of the NYPD, her light eyes cast to the side, mouth twisted as pleading came to a stop, blood seeping through that lacy, leathery black thing barely covered her. Her finger twitching once, twice, freezing in place as her heart beat one final time, her lips spreading at her last exhale, the necklace she had gotten on her tenth birthday from Dad sliding to the side, her blood devouring it.

Her entire body locked, her heart was racing, and she couldn't drag her eyes from the bloodied sheets. When Ed bashed the butt of his gun into the back of her head, Tara was powerless to stop him. She collapsed, unconscious, onto the floor, gun skidding somewhere in the shadows. Michonne spun around as Ed held a gun to Tara's limp body.

"Put it down," he demanded. "Hands where I can see them!"

She gently lowered the gun to the floor, rising with her hands in the air. "Don't hurt her."

Bruno came up from behind and grabbed Michonne's hands, using her own handcuffs to subdue her. He jerked her toward the back room, and Michonne saw Ed hauling Tara along. They were forced into chairs, Tara bound was well, though her hands were cuffed in the front unlike Michonne's, likely due to her being out cold. Ed conversed tersely with Bruno then he came at Michonne, gun outward to warn her not to do anything funny. A moment of contemplation passed, and she must have given him the proper reaction, because he began to pat her down, slipping his hand into her pocket and yanking out her cell phone.

"Name," he demanded.

"Detective Michonne Grimes, NYPD," she told him. "Homicide."

"And her?"

"Tara Chambler." She watched her limp partner with concern for a brief moment then gazed around the room for an out. They had strategically placed a few battery-operated lanterns to cast light inside the room, and what was visible in Michonne's line of sight was the one exit/entrance and a table soaked in blood, a sink and what appearance to be the murder weapon. Or it could simply _a_ weapon. They had been smart enough to clean it off, probably wouldn't find any prints on it, not that it mattered as they were currently holding two NYPD detectives at gunpoint, assaulted one of them and two of their partners had confessed their crimes. They were just digging the hole deeper.

Outside a knot in the pit of Sasha's stomach began to grow, and she neared the building, hearing a grunting followed by a body collapsing. She saw Michonne casting away her gun and being led off; Tara and an unknown man hurrying after them. She called in backup right then and there but continued onward. She was a good shot, and it was even ground. Tara was unconscious, might rouse in the middle, but for now, it was two on two. Michonne was dangerous because she was Michonne, not because of any weapon. Sasha had learned that first hand. God help anyone who ever dared to attack any of her kids, or any of her friends' kids. Or anyone she loved, really.

"What do we do with them?" Bruno murmured to Ed. "Kill them?"

"Let me think."

"We have to get out of here. Lloyd's dumb ass got us caught. We have to get to the border. Now. A train heading to Canada leaves in an hour."

"I said _let me think_ ," Ed growled, and Bruno backed off. "Hey, you. Who's in command here?"

"Captain Rosita Espinosa." Michonne studied the two men. "She's in my contacts."

"A woman's in charge?" Ed chuckled. "No wonder you didn't find us till Lloyd."

In the darkness, Michonne saw something shift, and she squinted her eyes to try and make out the shape. She knew instantly it was Sasha, who may or may not have been in the building. It was far too dark to tell, but judging by the eroded walls, there were in all likelihood plenty of holes. She might be able to get a good angle, take one of them out, and Michonne might be able to get the other.

Michonne ensured the two men were caught up in their highly sexist and inaccurate rant on women, giving a gesture only Sasha would know, and Michonne couldn't tell if she did any back, but Sasha was intelligent. She'd figure it out. Now all Michonne had to do was figure out how to draw them closer to her. She and Tara were closer to the light than the two men, and as good a shot as Sasha was, she couldn't see in the dark. An idea formed in her mind as they said something about hormones.

"Actually, it wasn't Lloyd who gave you away," Michonne informed them, lying through her teeth, but concealing it well.

"Oh? You just happened to figure it out, did you?" Ed spat.

"No. We had our good friend _Jon_ tell us where you were."

"Excuse me?" He stepped closer.

"Yeah. Jon James? The kid you played ball with? He told us where to find this...hole, what you did to these woman and why. It's pathetic, not taking responsibility for your own actions is one thing, but to murder someone because of it..." She shook her head. "You're not even men. You're _lower_ than that."

Two steps toward her, an ire-induced tremor passed through his gun hand, and he jeered. "He wouldn't do that. I know Jon. He's a good man, keeps his word."

"You killed his wife," Michonne debated. "Mother of his child. Love of his life. He wasn't going to do it. He was going to let her go— _let them all go_ —if you'd let him. He loathes you, Ed. You destroyed him, and he wanted to repay the favor."

One step. He raised the gun. "You don't know what you're talking about, bitch."

Tara jolted in her seat, lifting her head and finding a fuzzy picture before her: their doers standing in front of Michonne, one with a gun trained on her, and the other backing up toward the shadows, clearly wanting to escape. She blinked several times, trying to gather herself, and she heard Michonne riling up the man with the gun. She knew who he was when her vision cleared, Ed Peletier, and she moaned softly, the pulsing in the back of her head wanting to drag her back to those black waters of unconsciousness. She couldn't. Not yet. Michonne needed her to stay conscious.

Ed placed his gun to Michonne's forehead. "Say one more thing. I dare you."

After a brief consideration, Michonne opted for, "Duck."

Confusion flitted across his face a second before her slammed the heel of her foot hard into his shin, Michonne was certain she had heard it break, and he fell to the ground, screaming in agony, clutching his knee; and when he wasn't screaming, he was spewing curse words at her or sputtering at Bruno to do something. She had mere seconds before Bruno choose to fight back—or run away. She couldn't let either happen.

However before she could react to Bruno, a gun fired and sent him to the ground. He hugged his knee to his chest, wheezing and muttering curse words. Sasha was stunned as she hadn't even fired a single bullet, and Michonne's gaze turned to her left. Tara stood beside her, hands shaking as she lowered the gun Ed had shoved in their faces, and she slumped to the floor, where Michonne could see blood on the back of her shirt.

"Call an ambulance!" She maneuvered through the handcuffs, stepping back through them so her arms were now in front of her, and she caught Tara before she fell to the floor. "Tara, I've got you."

"I'm okay." Tara slumped against her. "I—I'm okay."

Sasha's backup arrived twenty minutes later, both men were handcuffed, both wounds tended to with the proper amount of pressure, and Michonne went to the hospital with Tara. Sasha stayed behind to have a word with the Captain, and Michonne called Lilly and Meghan to tell them what had happened.

Tara had been in and out since they arrived, the blood had stopped, and that was as far as Michonne had gotten before they insisted she couldn't follow them anymore. She hovered in that spot for about ten minutes, watching Tara drift further and further away, and she gulped, finding a seat to wait for Meghan and Lilly.

– – –

"I can't go over to Carl's?" Meghan stared at her mother, tone hardly above a whisper but clearly agitated. "Why not?"

"Honestly, I don't trust you'll stay there. I don't trust _you_."

"Lori has Judy today, and Rick has court, and God only knows were Michonne is, but Lori will be over there! She's like a booze finder! One time—one time—Patrick tried to sneak one of those tiny bottles of vodka or something inside, and she just knew it was in his backpack. She hunted it out and told his mom! He just wanted to see what it tasted like. Honestly, not that good."

" _That's_ why I don't trust you!"

"Oh, my God, Mom! We have a report due! I already screwed up. I wanna make it right and help him out. He's mad at me, and I don't blame him. Please, just let me over there. I'll behave and call or text you every twenty minutes, if you want. I'll send pictures or a video, just please."

Before Lilly could respond, her phone buzzed. She groaned and let it be. "No. I took today off so we could talk. We're going to talk."

"It's due on Monday. You work this entire weekend, and God knows who's gonna get killed between now and Monday! You don't know anybody else who can take me to Carl's! You're already making me stay with your lawyer friend for the weekend. Can't I just go to his house for, like, an hour?"

Her phone buzzed again, Lilly glanced at it, wondering if it was the hospital or Tara.

"You aren't even listening to me!" Meghan grabbed her Mom's cell phone and nearly threw it, but saw the text from both Michonne and Amy—an old friend of her mom's who worked at the same hospital as her—displayed on the screen. "Oh, my God, no. Please, please, no." She unlocked the phone and read them.

"What is it?" Lilly looked over Meghan's shoulder. "Oh, God." She snatched her keys and coats, tossing Meghan's hers. "C'mon."

Meghan shoved the phone into her pocket then shoved her arms through the sleeves of her coat, running after her mom.

They arrived to find Rosita, Michonne, Noah, and a blonde woman—Meghan knew her as Denise—in a huddle. Rosita pulled Lilly aside to inform her of what happened, Meghan was enveloped in a hug by Michonne, and Noah embraced her next, giving her shoulder a tight squeeze.

"They haven't said anything?" Lilly tucked hair behind her ears.

"Not yet, but soon." Rosita ran her gaze from the doors Tara had lead through to Lilly's face etched in anxiety and fear. "All I know is they're running some tests now, just making sure the damage wasn't too extensive."

"What happened?" Meghan turned to Noah. "The text didn't say."

"Tara was hit in the back of the head," he answered despite Michonne shaking her head at him. "She came around for a bit then blacked out again. I don't know how hard he hit her, but...I'm sure she'll be fine. She'll pull through."

"Lilly." Dr. S waved her over to update her on Tara's status.

Noah stopped Meghan from approaching them, holding her wrist as gently as he could while keeping her in place. Meghan looked on as Dr. S discussed the injury with her mom, and she swallowed hard when her mom didn't react. She stepped forward, Noah's grip increased, and she tried to read their lips but it wasn't a talent she had. Also Dr. S wasn't facing her. She only saw about half of his face, and she bit her bottom lip, waiting what felt like years before her mom joined them.

"She's gonna be fine," Lilly announced, and the group gave a collective sigh of relief.

Meghan felt Noah release her, and she dove into her mom's arms, embracing her tightly. Lilly stroked her hair and felt herself breathe since they departed from the apartment. Noah said he'd call Beth and Sasha, inform them of the update, and Michonne decided to return to the precinct and fill out her report and give Sasha a hand. Rosita wanted to be the one to talk to Tara, but she had a call to make before she could sit and wait for her detective to wake up. Denise just wanted to see her with her own eyes, make sure she was genuinely all right and hopefully that'd dislodge the lump in her throat.

"I don't think we've met." Lilly offered her hand the blonde woman. "Lilly Chambler."

"Denise Cloyd." She shook her hand. "I—I was assigned as Tara's therapist after the Samuels shooting."

"Oh." She nodded. "I hope you got more out of her than I did."

"Yeah, me too."

Lilly smiled. "I'm glad you care so much. It's good to know we're...not the only ones. Sometimes I forget." She sensed Meghan beside her. "This is Tara's friend, Denise."

"Hey." Meghan provided a smile, knowing her mom would crawl up a wall if she knew they'd met—and had a semi-session—before. "Nice to see you."

"Right back at you."

Meghan chuckled, Lilly didn't know why, but she was thrilled to see more of the daughter she used to know returning. Lilly was fine with Denise and Rosita coming back with them to see Tara. Noah didn't have to ask. He'd probably be the first one to the room—him or Meghan. She was grateful Tara had so many people that loved her, cared about her, and she was even more grateful Tara would be okay. She could stand losing her too.

Outside snow drifted down, blanketing the salted and scrapped clean roads, and Rosita nudged a small pile of snow with the tip of her boot as her phone rang. She didn't hear him say hello and knew straightaway what his mood was: past disappointment. Hers was drained, pleased and haunted.

"Told you I couldn't say," Rosita remarked to Spencer, leg bobbing to fight off the cold, and she dropped her gaze to the fresh snow. "I'm sorry. Let him know I'll—"

"You'll what?" he snapped. "You'll continue to "not say" again? You'll not make him soup or call him before bed or kiss him goodnight or see him for weeks?"

"That's not my choice!" she seethed. "I want to be there with him right now! He's my son, goddamn it, stop acting like I enjoy this!"

"I think you do enjoy it. I think you could make time."

"For him, or for us, Spencer? Because honestly we're not going there right now."

"Or again?" he countered.

"Just put him on the phone, please. Let me say goodnight to him now."

"He's already in bed. He passed out after I gave him his medication and a bath."

"What?" Her tone was breathy, a scoff and disbelieving all at once. "I told you to call me _before_ you tucked him in."

"You didn't even pick up! Don't get pissed at me."

"I'm beyond pissed, trust me," she sneered and hung up, tossing her phone in her overcoat pocket. She sucked in quick breathes to fight off the emotion building up inside of her from the hectic events of this week and tried to focus on the good. Tara would be fine. They caught theirs guys. Their victims had justice. It would be all right from here. It would get better.

Until their next case that was.

– – –

Meghan was passed out in the corner of the room, curled up in a ball with her and Lilly's jackets, Noah had headed home to give Beth a hand with Nathan, and Rosita sat on the left side of the bed with Lilly opposite her on the right. Lilly held Tara's hand in both of hers, used to staying up through the night, and Rosita absentmindedly clutched Tara's hand, her thoughts elsewhere.

"You look distracted."

Lilly's voice pulled Rosita out of her thoughts and back to her cold reality. "I am."

"I know that look. Your son's sick, isn't he?"

She nodded and crossed her legs, trying to shift so blood would flow and her ass wouldn't be so numb. She couldn't pace anymore. Meghan nearly glued her to the chair, the sound of her boots on tiled floor caused the young girl to grind her teeth. "He has the flu, caught it from a cousin, and I can't be there for him."

"Why not?"

"Because of my job."

"Didn't you arrest those assholes?" Lilly freed one hand to prop her chin on as she examined the woman in front of her. "Didn't you get all you needed?"

"I need Tara's statement, and as a friend, I can't just ditch her. I...sent them out there alone. I have to be here."

"No, you don't. Meghan and Denise and I are here. We'll watch over her and call the minute she wakes up. Or the minute Dr. S gives the okay for her to talk to you."

"With my luck, it'll be the minute I walk through the door."

"You know Tara would want you to go. Michonne can take her statement. So go get cleaned up and be there when your son wakes up."

Rosita opened her mouth to argue when a croaky, "You heard her," sounded from Tara. They both snapped their head to her as she woke; Lilly smiled at her and kissed her forehead lightly before bustling off to find Dr. S, and Rosita smirked at her comment.

"I know I'm fabulous company, even unconscious, but get out." Tara closed her eyes, her mind hazy, but she wanted to get her point across. "Go."

"Are you sure?"

"If I could slap you, I would, but I don't have the energy to lift my arms." She forced her eyelids to part and glowered with as much heat as she could muster in her current state. "Go to your kid, gorgeous. I'm fine."

Rosita chuckled. "Fine. I should leave you in the capable hands of the doctors and your family."

"Then why can I still see you?" Tara joked.

Rosita slipped out as Lilly and Dr. S entered, Meghan woke up from the commotion, and it was then Denise returned with the coffees. Tara was examined again and given the results of the tests they'd ran on her upon arrival. Dr. S suggested Tara stay with Lilly for a couple days so someone could keep an eye on her, ensure she was recovering properly, and Lilly already knew how to tend to her, being a nurse. He was confident she'd pick up on the warning signs of sever damage.

"Great, bunking up with my sister while recovering from a head injury. Thanks, S." Tara smirked.

"Oh, she'll be just fine."

Lilly chuckled and walked him out to finish the paperwork.

"How do you feel?" Meghan dropped in the seat her mom had occupied. "Dizzy? Queasy? Hungry? I can go get something for you."

"I'm none of the above, but thanks."

"You want out of here, don't you?" Denise handed Meghan a cup of hot chocolate, gripping her own cup of coffee in both hands and sliding in the other vacated seat.

"Yeah, I'm not a fan of hospitals. They...just give me the creeps."

"Grandpa sent a lot of time in the hospital," Meghan mumbled, picking at the lid to her hot chocolate. "He would have me read to him, and I wanted to bring him a plant or flowers to brighten his room, but the nurses said...something about bacteria on them, and it wasn't..." Her voice grew softer and softer until it faded out entirely. She sipped her drink and avoided eye contact.

Tara wanted to take her hand, but they were fastened around the warm cup, so Tara changed the subject. "What have I missed then?"

"The arrest of your doers." Denise adjusted her glasses. "Michonne will be by later to tell you any details you want."

Tara raised a finger to the cardboard cup holder. "Does that last one happen to be mine?"

"Sorry, but no." Lilly claimed the last cup. "No coffee for you. You need to rest."

"Oh, these next couple days are gonna be great," Tara dryly mused. "I am overjoyed."

"You should be. I can't take time off work right now, but Meghan will be home with you both days since it's a weekend, and I'll show her everything she needs to know."

"Wait, so I get Meg as my nurse?"

"Until I get off."

"There is a God." She held out her palm to her niece, and Meghan high fived her. "Yes."

"You do know who's going to be changing your bandages, right?"

"Unless you go full blown _Misery_ on me, I think I'll be okay."

Ignoring that comment, Lilly spoke to Denise, "You're welcome to visit her any time, by the way."

"Thanks." Denise managed a smile. "I'll take you up on that."

"Wow, these two and rarely any Lilly? It's my lucky day," Tara teased.

"All right." Lilly smacked her foot with the empty cup holder. "Shut up and get some rest, okay?"

– – –

Rosita unlocked the door to Spencer's apartment with the key he'd given her years ago. She unloaded the grocery bags and put everything away, removing her shoes and overcoat, tossing it on the hook along with her scarf. She knew the boys were likely still fast asleep, so she crept down the hall to her son's room, finding him conked out, thumb in his mouth, cuddling a bundle of blankets. It warmed her heart. So did seeing Spencer on the floor beside him, also dead to the world.

She stepped over him and climbed into bed with Alejándro, wrapping her arms tenderly around him and burying her face in his soft curls. She drifted off shortly afterward, the scent of his crisp apple shampoo filling her every breath, as she fell into a sleep, an ease, so deep the world stopped existing. It'd been years she'd slept like this. The kind of sleep you get when you're home.

– – –

"They met at a bar," Michonne recounted. "Lloyd happened to overhear. He followed them to the warehouse, tried to "join up", but since he was never married, they turned him away. You know the rest."

"Think they'll get life?" Tara adjusted the pillow behind her head.

"Yeah." She rubbed her palms together. "Hannah's grandmother has full custody, and I doubt Jon will see her again."

"Fourteen years until she's eighteen. She might get curious."

"Or furious."

"Guess only time will tell." She ran her eyes over her friend. "How are your kids?"

"Probably trying to sucker Rick into letting them stay for another hour." She smiled at the thought. "Lori gets Judy and Carl this weekend, but we rotate throughout the week for whoever is available. Lori and I agree we need a more stable arrangement."

"Yeah, probably."

"We're having coffee tomorrow, so that ought to be fun."

"I thought you were getting along."

"We are, but...Judy's been calling me mom lately. She does Lori too, but...Lori isn't very thrilled with it. I don't blame her. Andre calling another woman mom? I'd bring out the claws too."

"What does Carl call you?"

"Michonne, but he's gotten into calling me Mom Two."

She snickered. "Mom Two?"

"You adjust after hearing it so many times. You should have seen Rick's face when he first heard it." She chuckled. "Carl didn't even act like it was weird, just kept saying it until I about threw a pillow at him."

"What'd he want?"

"His damn game. One of the portable ones."

"Oh, right." Tara grinned. "So not the comics you've been stashing in your desk for a week?"

Michonne smirked. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Get outta here. I don't like liars in my presence."

"Fine, but only because it's late. Give me a call if you need anything."

"I am fine. Good night."

"Good night."

––

The boys were fast asleep in their room, the mess of game cases and comic books on their floor, and Michonne rubbed her fingertips over her temple. She didn't want to be the one to deal with that, but she knew Rick would let it slid until they couldn't even see the boys in the mess. She would have to remind them to clean it up. If that didn't work, she would do it herself and lock every game and comic in the truck of her car until they showed her they could keep the room clean. Of course she wouldn't warn them about that.

She frowned at the empty bed in Judith's room, and she checked the window, seeing it was tightly locked, and she hurried to their bedroom, finding them sprawled out on the bed in almost the exact same position. She chuckled under her breath, but it was loud enough to wake Rick.

"You're home late."

"Lot of paperwork." She pushed off the frame of the door. "Mind telling me why I have to share my side of the bed?"

"She might be little, but she's persuasive." His voice was husky, laced with fatigue, and he hushed his words to not wake their daughter. "Plenty of room here, you know."

She sighed and lied down beside him, still in her red blouse and black slacks. She pillowed her head on his chest, and he slipped an arm around her, feathering a kiss to her temple, and she gave a small smile.

"Long day?"

"That's an understatement." Somehow being in bed with him and their kids nearby drained her of all her energy, and she was ready to pass out any second now. She was glad this case was closed. It was good to be home, that was for damn sure.

"How's Tara?"

"She's fine. They're keeping her overnight, and she's spending the weekend with Lilly. I know she'll be fine. It's just...this case."

"Thought you got your guys."

"We did. I just...can't shake it. Two of the victims had kids. One of them wanted sole custody, and the other just wanted to know his kid. Now there's a three-year-old boy and a four-year-old girl who will never know their mothers."

"Do they have relatives to stay with?"

"The girl's grandmother is taking sole custody, and the boy's grandparents." Sleep tagged her eyelids closed, and she murmured, "It's not the same."

"No, it's not, but they'll grow up on stories of their moms. Get to see pictures too, maybe. At least they know no one else is gonna get hurt 'cause of their crazy fathers. Who knows what would've happened if you and the others hadn't stopped 'em." He glided his thumb over her brow. "It'll be better tomorrow."

She gave no reply.

"Michonne?" He peered at her, discovering somewhere in his words he'd lost her to sleep. He shook his head and closed his eyes. Like mother, like daughter. Both mothers, actually. _At least she was sleeping_ , he thought, remembering how many closed cases kept her awake at night, and his lips tugged upward. _At least she's sleeping._

––

It didn't in the tiniest bit stagger him to find her awake at this hour. He was actually amazing she only had _one_ case file open, its contents spread over the length of the tan chaise, her legs on either side as she read over the corner's report, and her concentration so intense she likely knew he was there and had already brushed him off as a non-threat.

"It's two in the morning," Bob proclaimed. "What are you doing?"

"I changed the time to be ahead an hour," Sasha replied. "It's one-forty-five, and I'm reviewing the Jones case."

"Didn't that go cold?"

"Yes, it did. I'm just looking for anything they might have missed." She scanned the coroner's report. "It wasn't my case, and fresh eyes do wonders, you know."

"Skill Jones can wait until morning. You need to sleep. When was the last time you slept?"

"I'm fine."

He gathered the crime scene photos and scattered reports and sat. "You'll have a new crime to focus on tomorrow. What's so special about Jones?"

"He was a sixteen year old boy." She turned the file over to the picture inside. "Black. Word on the street was he was dealing, but stopped before he was killed. They wanted to file it under "random gang violence", but they couldn't make the pieces fit, so in a box in storage it went."

"I know you want to find the asshole that did this, but it's not your job. And it's late. You're exhausted."

"Says the man who just worked 48 hours straight." She smirked at him. "How are you still awake?"

"I sleep better with you beside me."

She rolled her eyes. "You're ridiculous, but all right."

He placed the papers inside and left it on the chase, falling into step with his wife as they neared their bedroom. "It'll worked itself out."

"Yeah? How do you know?" She turned to him. "I could pass his killer every day and not know it. It could be the guy that serves my brother coffee every morning. It could be the pizza delivery guy. It could be the asshole who keeps nabbing the good printer paper."

He chuckled, running a hand down his cheek. "You still haven't let that go?"

"No, and I don't intend to." She stretched and dropped onto the mattress, kicking back the covers. "Just so you know, I'm waking up early to review that file."

"I figured as much."

She rested her arms over her upraised knees. "What do you want to tell me? I can see the question rattling around in your head. Just ask me."

"All right." He moved beside her and held her gaze. "Are we going to talk about kids?"

She pursed her lips and nodded. "I wondered when you'd bring that up."

"You said we'd talk about it. It's been a year now."

"Yeah, I know." She shook her head. "I don't know what to tell you."

"You don't want them anymore?"

"As a cop, I see all the horrors of the world, and to be honest I don't know if I want to add another potential target to the mix."

"Potential target?" He scoffed. "Sasha, you can't think like that."

"Well, I do think like that. I think about every possible outcome every day I step into work." Her eyes sliced to his. "I see the struggle Rosita goes through every single day with her kid. I see Michonne and Rick and what they have, and it's not easy either. You have two cops and a real estate agent and three kids. You can count on one hand how many times Rick and Michonne had been to Carl's games or one of Andre's recitals."

"They aren't us."

"No, but eventually...we'll be there too. You're a doctor, and I'm a cop. There's no way we'll be here every day for our kid. We barely have time for ourselves." She searched his eyes. "I'm not saying never. I just don't think now is the right now. I need to think about it."

"How much time? It took us a year for you to get here. So how much more time do you need?"

"I don't know." It was all she could say. Better to be honest than to lie. Or so she kept telling herself as he stormed out.


	11. The Weekend

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

Spencer woke thanks to his internal clock, groaning at the stiffness in his back, and he rolled over to check on his son. He noticed a hand around Alejándro's stomach and shot up, exhaling when he saw Rosita's face half hidden by that mop of curls. He smiled at how adorable it was, the two of them, and he gave into the temptation to take a picture. He only had few of them together. It was a good picture, so he made it his lock screen.

"I know you didn't just save that."

He froze in placing his phone on the nightstand at her voice.

"Delete it, Spencer." She lifted her head from the pillows. "There's a lot of work involved for me to like a picture of myself, and I know for a fact I look like crap right now."

"No, you don't. You look better without makeup."

"Yeah, right." She rolled her eyes. "Seriously, delete it."

"No."

They were interrupted by their son waking, Spencer ruffled his hair, seeing his fever had broken, and he chuckled as he watched the confusion shift to excitement on his son's face when he registered the fact it was his mom holding him.

"Mommy!" He flung himself at her.

"Mi bebé." She embraced him, pulling him off the bed and completely into her arms, sitting up. "How do you feel?"

"My throat hurts." He sat back on her legs. "My chest and my ears." He snuffled.

"Well, I'm here now, and I'm here for the entire day."

His face lit up. "Will you make me soup?"

"Yes, I bought everything for it." She beamed at his reaction. "Go brush your teeth, and we'll make breakfast."

Spencer lifted him up and off Rosita's lap, setting him on the floor, and he ran down the hall to brush his teeth. He turned to her. "I'm really glad you're here."

"Me too." She felt her hair loose down her back and searched the bed for her hair tie. She spotted it and started to pull it back when Spencer asked her not to. "And why not?"

"I like it down." He tucked some behind her ear, running his hands down to her elbows. "You need a change of clothes?"

"You still have some of my clothes?" Her brows shot up. "I thought I got everything."

"I found a few things."

"If they're my maternity clothes, I left those here on purpose," she whispered like it was a secret, and he laughed.

"I gave those to my brother for his wife, but no. Actual fitting clothes." He guided her to his bedroom, passing Alejándro on their way, and Rosita saw him brushing his teeth on his own without being constantly told to. The last time she was over, Spencer had to get on him. She was impressed and saddened she'd missed whatever he'd done to motive Alejándro.

"Here." He handed her a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. The last time she'd stayed over for a prolonged time period was summer. "Not the best for winter, but we're not going anywhere with him sick."

"I know, Spence." She tossed them onto his bed and unbuttoned her wrinkled blouse. "So, what medications does he have to take?"

"I'll do that."

"No." She worked on her slacks now, shaking her head. "I want to do it. You already get everything else."

"All right. I'll show you. He has to eat before he takes them." He ran his eyes over her.

"My face is up here." She tossed her slacks at him, and he caught them. She tugged down the t-shirt and pulled her hair out of it, unfolding the shorts and tossing them at him too. "Give me a pair of your sweat pants."

"You know where they are." He watched her wander over to the dresser. "Bossy today."

"Kind of my job." She purposefully chose his favorite pair and shimmed into them, knotting the drawstring, which she knew he hated, because he couldn't untie her knots. "Besides those aren't mine."

"Whose are they then?"

"How should I know?" She folded her blouse and slacks, holding them in her arms. "You're the one who invited her home and let her leave without her pants."

"I haven't invited anyone over here," he short back, his jaw tightening, and he saw her smile. "You're rude. You're not supposed to treat me like a suspect."

"If you walk into it every time, is it really my fault?"

"Yes, I believe it is."

She leaned up, her lips a breath away from his, and she murmured, "You should pay more attention then." She exited the room and led Alejándro to the kitchen. "What do you have for breakfast?" She placed her clothes on the counter by the spice rack.

"Nothing too heavy." Spencer threw away the shorts and leaned against the counter. "He might get throw up again."

Alejándro's little face scrunched up at his options being limited, Rosita laughed, happy to know he made that face at someone other than her, and Spencer returned it. "No means no."

"How about eggs and toast?" Rosita suggested. "You do have eggs, right?"

"Yes, I have eggs." He let her help herself to the kitchen, not that he could stop her, and he turned on cartoons for Alejándro in the other room. He reached around her to pull out the loaf of bread from the fridge, grabbing a few extra items for his eggs. "Unlike you, I have actual food in my fridge."

"Hey, I have food in my fridge."

"You have lettuce in your fridge and canned coffee."

"I'm not home enough to need a constantly full fridge."

"You've _never_ have a full fridge." He found a knife and began to cut up mushrooms. "Not even before you got titles."

"You ate everything," she challenged.

"I tried." He smirked suggestively, and she rolled her eyes. "You need to eat healthier, especially with your hours."

"Did you talk to my mom?" She folded her arms, brow arched, hip cocked. "You did, didn't you? She told you to lecture me about this. I told her to drop it."

"Yeah, we talked, but about Al—er, Alejándro. I'm saying out of concern."

"Spencer—"

"Have a weekly dinner with us," he cut her off, and she stared. "A hearty meal once a week, just the three of us. It doesn't have to extend beyond that, but...it'd be great for you and for Alejándro. I don't have a problem with it either."

"I can barely make it home for one night."

"Then make that one night the night we have dinner."

"I'd love to, but...it's just—hard." She frowned when the last bit of hope left his eyes, and she moved loose hair out of her face. She opened the cartoon of eggs and tugged the bowl closer. "Why do you always make me feel like a bad parent?"

"You're not a bad parent." He held up a bell pepper, indicting if she wanted any, and she nodded. "You're just an invisible parent."

"That's worst than being a terrible parent." She began to crack open egg after egg. "Not to sound like a bitch, but I have to work my ass for a living; I can't exactly call up my father and ask for twenty grand."

He turned to her. "That was for Alejándro, and you know it. Dad sends us money so his grandson doesn't go hungry or have holes in his clothes and shoes. So he has a roof over his head."

"I know it was for him, and my point was this: I can't take days off like you. I can't take weeks and months off of work and know I'm secure. I have money put back, but I have plans for it."

"Like?"

"A college fund for Alejándro, retirement, in case I don't have enough to cover my bills—important things like that."

"I can cover his college fund."

"Maybe I don't want you to!" She stopped cracking eggs so she couldn't crush them in her grip. "He's my son too. I've got this, all right?"

"I'm not trying to cut you out. I'm just trying to help."

"This isn't how you help me. This is how you make me feel useless and out of touch with my child." She marched off toward his spice rack and pulled out what she needed.

"You are out of touch with him, and you need to accept that. You miss so much on a daily basis, not counting the weeks he doesn't get to see you. You're trying, and I get that, but...maybe it's not enough."

"What do you want me to do about it? Quit my job?" She spun around. "Because I can't do that."

"Move in with us."

"What?" She laughed. "Oh, you've got to be joking. Please, tell me you are joking."

"No, I'm not."

"Are you insane? Do you remember why we slip up in the first place?"

"We're his parents, Rosita. You can have the spare bedroom, if you want. I'm not seeing anybody. I don't want to see anybody, so it won't be awkward. You'll be right down the hall from him, and if he needs you, he knows you'll be home—here—eventually." He searched her eyes. "Think about it. It's a good idea."

She said nothing, simply added spices to the eggs and flicked the knob on the stove.

"At least consider it, all right?"

"Why are you suggesting this now?" She faced him. "Because he's sick? Or because you're worried—"

"I _am_ worried," he softly hissed. "You're a cop. You like to take things into your own hands and bend the rules. It...doesn't always work out well, and I don't want my son to lose his mom when he's barely had the chance to know her. Your apartment is small and crappy. You're never there anyway. It's like an enlarged closet. At least here...you can be home. Like before."

"It can't be like before."

"I didn't mean us from before, just you living here with me and him. I don't need us together. I just need my son to know his mother. I have the room, and you want more time with him. It's a win-win." He studied her. "Just give it a chance."

"I'm not agreeing to anything, but how would this work?"

"We'll pack up your stuff, move it into the spare bedroom. You'd have your own bathroom, a spacious closet, and you already have a key to the place. We can divide up the bills, if you want, but we don't have to. Pitch in on groceries, and that's it. Plus the weekly dinner, if you can manage."

She heaved a sigh. "I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask." He reached over and brushed hair off her forehead. "You're not as warm today."

"I wasn't sick to begin with." She moved away. "I'm the one with the good immune system, remember? You'll be down with the flu by tomorrow night, I bet."

He laughed. "Probably. I'm taking vitamins to try and avoid that, but I'm not so lucky."

"Don't worry. I'll leave plenty of soup for you."

––

"Is this the part where expect me to eat this?" Tara groaned, rolling over. "I'll starve."

"Tara." Lilly smacked her thigh. "Eat. It's better than it looks. You need to eat to get better, so here. Meghan helped me make it."

"I don't mind healthy food, but could you make me something I can recognized. Like salad." She pushed herself into a sitting position. "Or...eggs."

Lilly sighed. "You know what? Don't eat it, but I'm kicking your company out."

"Someone's here to see me?" She stirred the concoction in the bowl before her. "Who?"

"One bite, and I'll tell you. Two, and I'll let them in."

Her lip curled, but she complied. It was astonishingly delicious. It just looked like a toilet that hadn't been cleaned in forty years. She wouldn't give Lilly the satisfaction. "A little salty, but I'll manage."

Lilly shook her head. "Eat the roll too, jerk. Denise is here."

"Already?"

"Guess she wants to see if you're all right mentally." Lilly rose off the bed. "I'll be home late, but Meghan's got dinner in the crock pot, and I'll call during lunch. If you feel dizzy or nauseated, call me."

"I'm fine. It was just a little bump."

" _I'll call you at lunch_. Be good."

"Goodbye, and I'm fine!"

"Uh-huh." She skirted out to the living room where Denise and Meghan were chatting. "I have to go, so I'll leave you to it. If she's in pain and won't take anything, call me."

"I know, Mom. You told me a million times. I've got this." She met her at the door. "And Denise is here, so I'm okay, and Tara is okay."

Lilly embraced her with a squeeze. "Be good, okay?" She kissed her forehead. "I'll see you tonight."

"Have a good day at work, and I will be."

"Bye. It was good to see you again, Denise."

"Same to you." She nodded.

Meghan closed the door after her mom. "I have to wash dishes, but Tara's in my room."

"Where are you at?"

"In with my mom."

"Is that...working?"

"She's never here so..." She shrugged. "Do you want anything? Food or a drink?"

"I'm fine, but thank you." She found her way to where Tara was and greeted her with a grin. "Hey."

"Hey." She returned it. "I know I had a lot of people worried, but you didn't have to visit me. That sounded rude. I'm sorry. I just meant...I'm okay, and you don't have to worry about me."

"I know what you meant. Meghan actually called me. She said you were talking in your sleep, thought you might have had a nightmare."

"Oh."

"You don't have to tell me. I signed off on you, so you really don't have to tell me. I'm only asking out of concern. As a friend."

"No, it's all right. It was just... You know how you eat something before bed, and you get weird dreams?" Denise nodded. "That's what happened. It wasn't a nightmare. Just weird as hell. I'm...sick of saying I'm fine, but I am."

"How are you feeling?"

"Smothered. I can stay at my own place and take care of myself. It wasn't that bad. Lilly's just overprotective."

"I can tell." She sat on the bed beside her. "How did you sleep?"

"Really well, actually. Minus the freaky dream, of course. I'm starting to think my place is haunted, and this ghost gets its jolly off by interrupting my sleep." She dipped a bit of roll in the broth of her meal. "I need to move."

"I can help with that." Meghan entered and climbed onto the bed beside her aunt. "I saved this from the newspaper this morning. I thought we could look at what was available."

"Maybe later." She set the folded paper on the nightstand. "I kinda wanna watch a movie, but I appreciate it, kid. We can browse through it later."

She beamed. "I'll put on some popcorn. Don't tell Mom."

"My lips are sealed."

"I should go." Denise stood up with Meghan. "Let you two watch your movie."

"No, stay." Tara unthinkingly reached up and clasped her hand. "I could use the company."

"And I don't mind," Meghan promised. "It means more popcorn, and I can be useful. I mean—I can take care of more than Tara. It keeps my busy so I don't have to think about the F I'm going to make."

"F? Why would you make an F? You're brilliant."

She flushed and explained her project with Carl. "Mom wouldn't let me go, and I doubt he'll let me make credit for his work."

"I will call her," Tara declared, "and I will explain that you were—"

"—drunk off my ass, wandering the streets instead of at his place working?" Meghan shrugged a shoulder. "It's my mistake, and I'll turn my grade around. I always do. It's why extra credit exists."

Tara frowned. "Meg..."

"I'm making popcorn, don't frown at me. Pick a movie."

"I'll give her hand." Denise squeezed Tara's hand before letting it go, and she ran her eyes over the young girl as she tore open a bag of popcorn. She knew Meghan had plenty of insercurities, and the more she spoke, the more she revealed. It was heartbreaking, because she was spilling her deepest fears to anyone who would listen, but no one picked up on them. They simply heard a young girl speaking, and that was all. No wonder she wanted to get wasted instead of attending school.

"We have two kinds, and I don't like the extra butter like Aunt Tara, because I think it's really salty, but do you like it?" Meghan held to the boxes out. "If you do, you can share with Aunt Tara. If not, we can share."

"It doesn't matter to me." She flashed a smile. "I'll get drinks."

"Okay. The glasses are up there." She pointed them out and slid a bag of popcorn in the microwave. "Tara doesn't like a lot of ice, but I do. I'm gonna go see if she's done with her food."

Meghan collected the empty tray, Tara scooted over so Denise and Meghan would have room on the bed, and Denise emptied pop into two glasses, pouring water into her glass. Meghan dumped the popcorn into bowls and carried them to the bedroom, rushing out to help Denise with the three cups, and they made themselves comfortable in her room. Tara had picked a comedy—surprising, right?. It was one of Meghan's favorite, so she coiled up on the floor with her bowl in her lap. Tara and Denise were on the bed, the bowl in between them, and the trio watched the movie, enjoying the company, the humor and the snacks. It was the most lax Tara had been in such a long time.

––

Nathan and Noah were lying on the bed, working on their dinner of French Toast Crunch, and Beth smiled at the sight. She didn't disturb her boys, simply changed out of her work clothes and showered. She didn't Noah to smell the cigarette smoke on her or the scent of alcohol. She still hadn't told him she'd lost her job and was working as a cocktail waitress. She would find a better job later, but right now she didn't have time. She would talk to Maggie tomorrow and figure it out.

"Hey." She climbed onto the bed, kissing the top of Nathan's head and smiling at her husband.

"Mommy." Nathan beamed at her, but soon his attention returned to the TV.

"Productive day, I see."

"You just missed us at the park. I tried to throw a football at him, but my aim is terrible. The sling doesn't help either."

"Sure, blame it on the sling."

He chuckled and returned her smile. "How was your day?"

"Exhausting." She reached over and helped herself to a spoonful of his cereal. She chewed and pointed the spoon at him. "You couldn't make actual food?"

"My cooking skills are cereal, toast and heavy meals, like Christmas dinners. I doubt you'd want ham and turkey in the oven right now."

"Sandwiches."

"He wanted cereal."

"And what is he supposed to eat for breakfast tomorrow?" Beth questioned, eating more of his cereal. "Hmm?"

"I'll make sandwiches." He curled an arm around her waist. "I'll figure it out. We have to go grocery shopping anyway, so I'll just do it after my appointment."

Her brows furrowed. "You have an appointment tomorrow?" He nodded. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's not a big deal."

"What if I wanted to be there?"

"You have to work, don't you?"

"Not in the morning. I'm having brunch with Maggie, but I can make time."

"Don't worry about it."

"I am worrying. Who's going to watch Nathan? Are you taking him with you?"

"Mom wants to see him, and she's having us over for dinner. I'll bring you back a plate, but I've got it covered. I am a grown man, remember?"

"Let me know what the doctor says, all right?"

"I will."

She leaned over and kissed him. She normally kept the PDA to a minimal when they were around Nathan, but she felt like she hadn't seem him in months. She didn't care much for her new job. The hours were nightmarish, and the customers were assholes. She could tolerate the looks and comments, but the groping was too much. She nearly shattered a pitcher of beer over one of the grabby assholes' heads, but Maddie sent her to the back to cool off. Meanwhile her husband and child had plans she didn't even know they were making. They lived in the same house, he wasn't working, and she missed them. She needed to make a change. Soon. She hoped Maggie had some ideas.

"What was that for?" Noah searched her eyes.

"Just because." She rested her forehead on his. "It's late. I'll be Nathan to bed. Let's hope the cereal hasn't given him a sugar high."

"It's barely eight."

"We need a set schedule, so I'm putting him to bed." She returned his spoon. "Besides I have plans for us."

"Plans?" he repeated.

"Yes, plans." She smiled suggestively and scooped the three-year-old up. "Hey, sweetie." She rained kisses down on his face, he squirmed to escape, and Noah laughed at the sight of it. "I missed you."

"Stop, Mommy," he pleaded.

"Nope." She giggled and embraced him.

"Mommy!"

– – –

"You're staying for dinner, right?" Tara exited the bathroom as Meghan scurried inside and shut the door. "I'm sure Lilly made way too much for us, and Meg won't mind. I think she likes the company. I know I do."

"If it wouldn't be imposing." Denise set the empty bowls on the counter.

"I asked," Tara reminded her. "We can watch another movie afterward. It helps me sleep."

"Are you having trouble sleeping?" Denise locked eyes with her. "I thought you said you were sleeping okay here."

"I am. Strange dreams is all." She collected the glasses and refilled them. "Don't worry about it. I'll make the plates."

Denise frowned, but soon Meghan was out of the bathroom and guiding her toward the table with the cups. They dug into the meal Lilly had prepared, Denise noted how Tara would gaze off lost in her thoughts and how Meghan prolonged chewing to avoid speaking, scooting meat around with the tip of her fork. They had their own issues, but Denise was here as a guest, not a therapist. Even if she were, Tara likely wouldn't tell her anything, and Meghan would brush it off as she'd done all evening. Whatever was bothering her, she was trying with every cell in her body to block it out, however Denise knew that technique wasn't going to do anything but worsen the true matter. She couldn't personally pick Meghan's brain, but maybe she could drop some hints to Tara. Or Lilly herself. Maybe. It might be best if she kept her nose out of it. This wasn't her family, wasn't her problem, so it would be best to let them resolve this themselves.

Meghan loaded the dishwasher and put the leftovers away, Tara snuggled back on the bed, and Denise seated herself beside her, the chair she'd once occupied now overtaken by Meghan's pile of blankets. She didn't want to move them, and Tara had made room for her. The bed was more pleasant in her opinion, easier on the ass.

"You asked me how I was sleeping," Tara whispered, her hand landing beside Denise's in between them on the bed.

"You didn't want to talk about it." Denise shrugged a shoulder. "It's all right. You don't have to tell me."

"But I want to."

"Then why aren't you?"

"Because it's... When I was attacked on Friday, at the warehouse, I was...thinking about Meg."

"What do you mean?"

She gulped. "I saw the crime scene, the blood was caked on these plastic sheets, and I saw...I thought I saw Lizzie. It was the same as my dre—nightmares, but...I wasn't sleeping. She was right there, and it was the same...for about a minute."

"What happened?"

"I—I was paralyzed." Her eyes rounded, Denise could feel a tremor course through her hand, so she grasped it, and Tara couldn't swallow. "I—She was just...lying there, all...bloodied up and...pale. She was so pale, and there was so much blood. I don't know how...how...there was so much blood. She's just a kid, how could she have that much blood inside her?"

"Tara, it's all right. She's...she's gone now, and it's all right. Noah's fine, and you are too. It can't touch you anymore. Not unless you allow it to."

"No, not...not Lizzie. It wasn't Lizzie anymore. It was her." Her eyes drifted to the doorway, but Meghan was still in the kitchen. "It was Meghan. She—she was on the ground just like Lizzie, dying. I saw the life leave her eyes, and I couldn't move. That's how Ed got the jump on me."

"I see." She smiled faintly. "It's a good sign."

"How?"

"Because it's not Lizzie who's occupying your mind anymore. You're anxious about Meghan, because of what happened at the police station. She was drinking and wandering the streets, but that's been...resolved. She's learned her lesson and is okay now. You don't need to worry about her ending up like Lizzie. They're two _very_ _different_ girls."

"I know, but...I've never...been affected like that before."

"She's your niece, of course it'd affect you."

She slowly nodded. "What do I do if it happens again? I can't put Michonne at risk like that. Or Noah when he returns."

"You take a deep breath and remind yourself she's all right, and you have a job to do. You can always call Meghan and talk to her, you know, after the arrest."

"You're right." Her grin returned. "Thank you. I'm really glad you're here."

"Me too."

Meghan joined them with a new movie and offers for dessert. Denise declined, Tara was stuffed from dinner, so Meghan helped herself to a bowl of ice cream. Tara made a date with Meghan to go apartment hunting tomorrow when Lilly left for work, but for now they were going to watch the movie Meghan had picked out. As the introduction for _The Proposal_ played, Meghan was aware of her aunt and Denise's interlaced fingers. She didn't say anything, simply swallowed more pistachio almond ice cream.

––

Tara passed out after the big reveal of the sham engagement, Meghan was pretty wiped herself, so Denise decided to show herself out, but Meghan caught her at the door. She didn't want to stick her in where it didn't belong, but she was fond of Denise, and she didn't want her to in trouble. She had to say this, and she had to say it now.

"What is your relationship with my aunt?" She folded her arms.

"Tara and me? Well, we're just friends."

"But you're her therapist."

"Well, no. She's not seeing me like that anymore. She did her mandatory hours. She asked if she could come to me, but we haven't—"

"Isn't that inappropriate?" Meghan butted in. "Sorry to cut you short, but I don't think you should be holding hands with my aunt if she's your patient. I'm not saying I don't approve, but not...like this, you know? Isn't it...against some rules too? I'm only asking, because I'm not sure. And I'm only saying this, because my aunt is happier when you're around. She...brightens up, and I know...it's mutual. I don't want you to get in trouble."

Denise nodded. "I get it. Thank you for inviting me over and for dinner. It was nice to sit around for once. I should go now. It's late."

"Okay. Get home safe, all right? And don't tell my aunt I talked to you about this. She doesn't like it when I butt in on her personal life like this."

"My lip are sealed." She smiled farewell and exited the apartment.

"Good." Meghan smiled to herself. Aunt Tara deserved a good relationship, and she didn't want rules and restriction Denise's job likely had to be a hindrance. She hoped it worked out. Aunt Tara hadn't been on a date since Meghan entered high school. Even Mom had been on a date since then. Maybe.

– – –

Lilly aided a man who was dragging two other men along, both bloodied and groaning. Lilly left one man in Amy's care and guided the other and his human crutch to another room so she could work on his wounds. She examined the man and assessed he'd need stitches and a splint. He'd have one hell of a headache when he climbed out of bed tomorrow; he was clearly inebriated, and from how the other man looked, they'd likely gotten into a bar fight. How classy. That was the tenth one in the last three hours.

The man who brought them in hovered by the curtains, arms folded over his chest, eyes on the young man who couldn't keep his head up. He looked sober, but he wore no jacket despite the weather. He was handsome, his dark brows furrowed, and she wondered who this young man was to him. A friend? A partner? A sibling? Cousin perhaps? He was too old to be his son, so there was some other connection. They were close, for him to haul him out of a bar to take him to the hospital without even grabbing his coat.

"Is he your friend?" Lilly inquired, preparing to stitch the gash above his brow.

"No." He shook his head. "He's my employee."

"Oh?"

"I owe Martinez's," he elaborated. "I hired him last week. He told me he had a short temper, but I didn't take him seriously."

"Was he working this drunk?"

"No. His shift ended, he chose to celebrate, and twenty minutes later I'm pulling him away from a customer."

"What caused the fight?"

"I'm not sure. I was on the phone. The shattering of a bottle caught my attention though."

She chuckled. "I should hope so."

"Is he gonna be all right?" He stepped into the room.

"Mostly," she assured him, glancing over to see he was watching her now.

She turned her attention back to the poor man in front of her, finishing her task with his brow and then the splint. She wasn't sure if a shot was necessary, but she decided it couldn't hurt. She needed a hand keeping him upright, the man kept him up, and she thanked him. She hoped Amy had less trouble with the other man. He didn't seem to be in this damaged, proving he could either evade well or this kid couldn't throw a punch. Maybe Amy got a story out of her patient.

"He's out cold." Lilly gestured to the man's employee. "Can you fill out paperwork for him?"

"Yeah. He's also a distant cousin." He smirked. "I'm Caesar, by the way. I don't think I introduced myself."

"Lilly." She shook his hand. "I'll get the forms for you."

"Thanks."

She handed him a clipboard and checked in on Amy, learning the cause of the fight was over a girl. It was some cocktail waitress Hank had been handsy with, and Caesar's cousin didn't like it. Caesar didn't let that sort of behavior stand, but he wasn't there when it happened. So his cousin tried to kick him out of the bar, and it all went to hell when Hank busted the bottle of Jack Daniels and dove for the poor kid. At least the reason of the fight was better than most. People fought over less.

"Gotta love working the weekends," Amy joked.

"I know, right?" She tucked loose hair behind her ear.

"At least you got to chat with a cute guy." Amy propped her head on her chin. "Did you get his number?"

"What?" She laughed and met her eyes. "Why would I want his number?"

"To do that thing called dating we talked about." Amy leaned over the desk. "Ten bucks says he asks you out before he leaves."

"Twenty says you're insane. Even if he did, I don't have time to date. I barely have time to brush my hair, let alone...date."

"What if he does ask?" Amy caught him checking Lilly out again and smiled. "What would you say?"

"I'm a single mother who works impossible hours. I think that says it all."

"When was the last time you went on a date? Hmm?" She lifted her chin when Lilly didn't answer. "You need a date. You need human contact that isn't blood and puss and whatever else blows through here. You need to go out and have a meal, and God knows how much you need to get lai—"

Lilly slapped her hand over Amy's mouth at movement in the corner of her eye, Amy glared and pried her hand off, walking away, and Lilly faced Caesar, forcing a smile to try and forgot her previous conversation.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"The prescription for his pain," he reminded her.

"Right. Hang on."

Once that was taken care of, he lingered still, and Lilly cocked her head at him, wondering what more he wanted. She distantly heard Amy's comments in the back of her mind, but surely that wasn't it. That couldn't it. Right? Her heart began to race at the possibility of him asking her out. Oh, shit.

"Hey, Lilly?"

"Mmm?"

"Just wanted to thank you again, and if you come by my bar, I'll give you a free drink."

"She would love to have a free drink." Amy slapped Lilly on the shoulder, grinning. "We were actually going to hang out tomorrow when our shifts were over, so we'll stop by."

"Great." His smile was dazzeling. "I'll see you then. It's Martinez's, by the way."

Before Lilly could protest, Caesar was helping his cousin out of the hospital, and Amy was looking up where his bar was. Lilly shook her head and whirled around to confront Amy, who smiled at her like she'd done nothing wrong, and Lilly huffed.

"I can't go out drinking tomorrow night. I have to take care of Tara, and I need to be there for Meghan. I have responsibilities, and I can't. You know I can't. Why did you do that?"

"Because Tara is a grown woman, and Meghan can take care of herself. You know as well as I do, Tara will be fine with rest, and she's there to keep Meg company." She shrugged her shoulders emphatically. "So, we're going to my place, changing, and we're going to get a free drink. You might even get a date out of it."

"I'm not going."

"Why not? Take away Meghan and Tara, why the hell won't you go? It's a drink! It's not a marriage proposal. Come on, Lilly, live a little. You're only thirty-three. You're not dead!"

She shook her head. "I have a job to attend to. If you'll excuse me."

"He's cute and sweet! Why are you fighting this?" Amy met her pace. "Most of the people we meet here aren't that hot. Come on. He's in to you."

She halted. She knew Amy could keep this up the entire night and early morning, and she already had a headache. She didn't want to deal with this for a second longer, so she snapped. "If I go, will you leave me alone?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Now go pester someone else, please." She said it as gently as possible, but her eyes were glaring daggers.

"I'm just looking out for you."

"Well, I don't need you to, okay?"

"Someone has to. You'll end up all alone, and we both know you don't want that." She shook her head. "You're the type of person who wants somebody, and the sooner you admit, the sooner we can dust the cobwebs off your dating life."

Lilly groaned and rolled her eyes, stomping off and ignoring the fact that Amy was right. She did want someone to grow old with and all of that crap, but her plate was too full right now. Dating wasn't an option. She had a sister to look after, and a child that was acting out. Dating could wait until Meghan was in college or at least lived on her own. It was only four years. Maybe more. God, her headache was going to become a migraine. Damn it all.

– – –

"Is anyone free on Thursday?" Tara tapped her fingers on the keyboard, waiting for it to sign in that following Monday. "Or do you know anyone who might be free on Thursday?"

"Why?" Sasha absentmindedly stirred her coffee in her NYPD mug.

"Because I bought a new apartment over the weekend, and I need help hauling my crap to and from." She grinned pleadingly. "Please? You have a strong brother, and Michonne, you could help me. Rick and the kids too. Please? Pretty please?"

"I can't." Michonne sat at her desk. "Carl has a game on Thursday, and I'm not missing it. I promised I wouldn't. I'm free on Friday."

"Okay, I can do Friday too." She turned to Sasha. "How about it?"

"I can come by tonight, help you pack up."

"If you're serious, I'll love you forever."

She smirked. "I'm serious. I'll bring dinner. Maybe some wine."

"Sounds a bit romantic," Michonne teased.

"Who said I was sharing the wine?" Sasha shot back, irritation thick in her voice as she drank from her cup.

Tara chuckled. "Bring what you want, just as long as you're helping. Meg's gonna come by tonight too. Lilly has plans. She was supposed to go out last night, but it was a weekend, so of course people went nuts with the violence. Hope you don't mind. Uh, that Meg's coming over."

"I don't, but I'll keep an eye on her and the wine," Sasha added. If this kept her out of the house for a while, she would be happy. She knew she would have to address the problem sooner or later, but she was going with later. They needed time to cool off and consider what they wanted. She hoped it was the same thing, but who knows. Cops weren't known for having lasting marriages and relationships.

She nodded. "Where's Rosita? Isn't she the first person here usually?"

"I was meeting with a family," Rosita informed her squad, having overheard Tara's question. "We have a new case, and I expect you to clear your schedules, because...we have a missing child."

"A missing kid?" Michonne shot out of her seat, prepared to drop everything. "But why call us? We're homicide."

"It's _him_." Her eyes moved from member to member of her team. "The whole city's been notified about the missing girl, but this is _our_ guy. Our case. Let's get to work. We only have forty-eight hours until we lose her."


	12. 24

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

"Are you sure it's him?" Michonne glanced at the files on her desk, a chill coursing through her very blood as she did so, and her mouth dried out. She didn't have to open those files to know exactly what the reports contained, who lied there dead in the photos. Her stomach was a macrame of knots.

"We found the diary entry." She held up the sealed page. "It was on her pillow case when her mother went to wake her for school."

"What does it say?" Sasha loathed this case. She had worked it when she was a rookie detective, but it went cold. She wanted to tear this asshole limb from limb, but there was nothing they could do. They had nothing on him. They didn't know who the hell he was, or why he took these young girls. All they knew was he had a type, and he always left behind a diary entry.

"June 19th 2010," Rosita read. "I feel so isolated lately. My parents come and go, and I simply remain. I waste away, back into the nothing I was born as. I know it's not their fault. They have to work. They have to take care of us. I get it. They spend their energy elsewhere unlike me. They deserve to rest and nap when they get home. I shouldn't feel this way. It's ridiculous. It's selfish. Being alone isn't scary. I should be used to it. I'm always alone, after all. That doesn't scare me. It never has. I know how to handle myself, but lately I'm not so sure. I'm wondering if maybe they'd be better off without me. It's not like I fit into their lives now anyway, so why does it matter if I stay or...if I choose to go? I mean it's my choice, right? I can pick my clothes, my shoes, my hair style, so why not my own death? It wouldn't be so bad, like falling sleeping. It'd have to be more peaceful than...what I'm feeling. Or what I'm _not_ feeling."

Tara frowned. "That's all?"

"Same as the others." She set it on the desk by her. "All signed B. It's the same handwriting, same paper as the others as well. The little shells in the corner."

"We don't know anything more on this B," Sasha threw out. "Whether she was the first victim or the perpetrator, so let's just dive in. Who's the girl this time?" They knew the diaries belonged to a girl in her teens. Handwriting studying at its finest.

"Sophia Dixon." Rosita smoothed the tape over her picture on the murder board. "She's fifteen years old, a straight B student, no record. She's seems like a decent kid."

The pale redheaded girl smiled back at them, her eyes bright for the yearbook photo. She was beside the other victims of him. Seventeen-year-old Amy Harrison, fourteen-year-old Penny Blake, thirteen-year-old Lana Martinez, sixteen-year-old Eliza Morales, ect. They weren't similar at all. They came from different backgrounds, attended different schools, some girls played sports, some girls were scholars, some came from single parents homes, some with both parents, some with uncles or aunts or grandparents as guardians. The only thing they had in comment were all girls were in their teens. That was their one connection.

"You went to see her parents yourself?" Michonne dragged her eyes from the girl's picture to their captain.

"Yes. They didn't have any helpful information for us, but call them in later. They may remember more once it's soaked in and passed, and the shock wears off. We'll need to speak with Harrison, Blake, Martinez and Morales again. They should be compliant. If not, explain what's on the line. If that doesn't work, redirect the call to me." She hated to do doing this to them. When Penny Blake was kidnapped, they called in Andrea to have retell the details of Amy's life before her abduction. They were trying to locate any one person who recently entered her life, or if Amy had changed any, but there was nothing. They merely sliced open old wounds and poured in buckets of salt, reminding Ms. Harrison yet again Amy's killer was not only still on the loose but snatching other girls. It's been five years since the first girl was taken, and there were again. _God, let us catch this fucker this time, please._

The only thing they could say in their favor for only a handful of the parents was they found their little girls. Months and months passed, nearly a year for some of them, but they returned their daughters. Those few little girls were able to be buried, to be at peace, their families given closure. It wasn't enough, but it was something. At least for the families whose children/grandchildren/siblings could be returned. A half dozen young girls' bodies from ages thirteen to seventeen were located three month or so after they were reported missing. Amy Harrison's body was discovered on the beach along with two other girls who were taken long before her, and Eliza Morales' body in an abandoned gas station lot with two other girls.

Regrettably girls like Lana Martinez and Penny Blake had yet to be found. More half of the girls who were reported as missing, who had an entry to B's diary somewhere in their home or mailbox hadn't been returned to their homes to be laid to rest. They had searched the beach and the lot for days, but no other bodies turned up. They were still out there in an unmarked grave, rotting, still in the clutches of their killer. They would be until this bastard was arrested and his sentence dealt out. Those little angels would know justice, Rosita vowed. She wasn't supposed to. It wasn't a promise she could keep, but she would see the oceans dry up before she let this piece of shit in human form walk.

"I hate making these calls," Tara muttered, eyes glossing over at the smiling faces of the many victims this asshole had under his belt. "Fuck." These families were learning to live with this massive hole in their lives, and they might be successful. They might be able to crawl out of bed and not burst into tears. They might be...saner now. Then one phone call from them, and it came screaming back. _Your daughter's or your granddaughter's or your sister's killer has taken another little girl, please come down to the station so we dissect their lives and remind you once more this guy is still on the loose, and we have no fucking clue how to find him or this newly kidnapped child, but we'll try._

Tara dragged a hand through her hair. For fuck's sake. Try. Try? These people were forever changed by what this bastard did to them, and all they could do was try to find him, try to save this little girl like they had failed to do for one of the other many little girls before her. They couldn't make promises, because they couldn't keep them. They didn't know anything. They didn't have the killer's name, or the location of where he and the girls were. They didn't know how he found these girls. They didn't know why he took them. The previous victims who bodies had been recovered had nothing to offer in the way of forensics. They hadn't been beaten. They hadn't been raped. They hadn't been poisoned. And the ones who still had skin on their bones had no bruises, nothing under their nails but the fibers from the blankets they were all wrapped in. There wasn't a goddamn shred of anything on any of the girls.

In addition this kidnapper, this murderer, was nonexistent. Not a single one of the parents/siblings/guardians noticed a change or a new man in their lives or something new in their routine. He just swooped in, plucked an innocent young girl from her bed and swooped out. He not only managed to slip in undetected no matter what the security was, but he accomplished vanishing with these girls every time. He even buried them in such remote locations that they weren't stumbled upon. They were just gone, blown out like a candle in the wind, and they couldn't stop him. They couldn't save these girls. Tara wasn't even positive they could save Sophia. She might just be another picture placed in a box on a shelf beside his other victims. All twenty-four of them.

"Hate isn't a strong enough word," Sasha concurred.

Rosita stepped away from the board once the other pictures had been added alongside Sophia. "Carol and Daryl had gone out to dinner the night before, leaving Sophia on her own until about nine. Carol said she checked in on her at nine-forty-five, and she was sound asleep."

"When did the parents go to bed?" Michonne questioned.

"Eleven." She ran her eyes over the bright faces of the many lives cut short. "So between eleven and six, he got into their home and took their daughter. There was no evidence of forced entry—"

"Of course," Michonne bitterly murmured.

"—but Sophia keeps her window cracked at night. Carol thought she'd closed it, but when she checked in on her, it was wide open. CSU were able to get a shoe print off the ledge. It's not much, but it's the most we've gotten."

"How much can a shoe print tell us?" Tara argued. "What brand of shoes he wears? Did anybody ever want to know the shoe of choice for serial killers?"

"It's something," Rosita countered. "It might lead us somewhere. The tread appeared to be worn, and there might be fibers or bits of rock or plant that tells us where he's hauling these girls too. I'm not saying it's the key to solving this case, but it _is_ something."

"Just focus your energy on this son of a bitch," Sasha commented. "And the interviews we'll have."

"Great." Tara buried her face in her palm and heaved a sigh. She should have asked for more days, but she would have come in the moment she heard about Sophia, so it didn't matter. She dared to peek at Sophia's picture again. Fucking hell, she could have been Meghan. She paled and ground her teeth. Let them find this prick.

––

" _You ducked out on us again,_ " Spencer spoke before Rosita could, and when she didn't retort, he frowned. " _Everything okay?_ "

Carol and Daryl were on their way in, Sasha rolled out to speak with Andrea who was caught in the middle of court right now, and Michonne was trying to placate Phillip through the phone. Tara was waiting on Martinez in the lobby, wanting to meet him and ride up with him, and Lerner couldn't get a hold of Morales. He and his family may have moved, or perhaps changed their number. Who knows. Lerner might have to canvas his old neighborhood and hope his neighbors remembered him enough to locate him.

"Let me speak to Alejándro, please," she whispered.

" _Rosita, what's going on?_ "

"I'm fine, Spencer, just let me talk to him." She only had a few minutes of peace before the families were brought in, and she needed to hear her son's voice. She needed to hear something good and pure, because a little girl was missing. They didn't know what would become of her, and they might never know. She wasn't sure her heart would take another dead girl on this case. The other twenty-four haunted her dreams some nights. She couldn't avoid their eyes filled with pleas and agony, hands grasping at her, wanting to be free, wanting to know peace. She couldn't offer them anything, just a vow that rang far too hollow after all these years.

" _Mommy_."

"Baby." Tears rolled down her cheeks, her voice husky from them, and she cleared her throat. "Mi corazón, how are you?"

" _I'm okay now. I'm not sick_." Rosita knew he was still fighting it off, but he was doing much better when she left. " _Daddy says we're gonna go to the park._ "

"That's great. Are you excited?"

" _Yeah! Grandma and Grandpa are gonna be there! Uncle Aiden too! You have to come, Mommy_."

"Oh, I can't. Mommy has to work." She snuffled, wiping at the corners of her eyes. "I'm sure Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Aiden will take up all your time. They don't see you enough, and I'm not going to stand in their way. You'll hardly miss me."

" _I miss you now,_ " he pouted through the phone.

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. "I know, baby boy. I miss you too, but we talked about this. I have to work. I have to keep bad guys off the street. Even Daddy has to work."

" _I guess._ "

"Well, we'll be together tonight. I promise. I'll read you to sleep, and I'll kiss you before I leave for work."

" _You will?_ "

"Yes, I will." She saw Tara and Martinez. "I have to go now, but I'll see you soon, okay?"

" _Okay_." He hesitated. " _I love you, Mommy._ "

"Te quiero, mi amor." She swallowed. "Goodbye."

" _Soon_. _Goodbye_." He hung up.

Rosita sucked in a deep breath, rubbing at her eyes and putting her work face on. "Caesar." She smiled apologetically. "I'm grateful you came in."

"Anything to help," was his reply.

"Detective Chambler will speak with you."

"I know the drill, Rosita." He smiled weakly. "But thank you for greeting me. Maybe you'll...get him this time."

She gulped. "Yes." There was nothing more to say.

Tara gestured to the chair by her desk, they sat together, and she didn't want to begin this interview. They knew all the details, but he might recall something new. Something helpful. She wasn't sure if that was true. If she had a kid who was kidnapped and murdered, she'd have every detail seared into her brain. There would be no forgetting. She'd sooner forget her name and her life and passion before the details of a such horrific day.

"Just ask," Caesar spoke first. "It's all right. I'm used to this."

"You shouldn't have to be," she gently countered. "We've called you in once before when Penny went missing, and now with Sophia. You shouldn't have to revisit this...nightmare every three or so months."

"I relive it every time I close my eyes," he informed her. "I see my little girl playing outside with her cousins, I hear her laughter, hear her calling for me to join her. I remember tucking her in when she passed out on the couch. I remember kissing her hair and telling her I love her. I remember waking up and finding her room empty...a note on the floor beside her bed. Like it happened two hours ago."

Tara's mouth ran bone dry. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Be appalled, be livid, be motivated to find this guy, but don't—don't be sorry. Sorry does nothing for me. It doesn't help me find her body. It doesn't...keep the thoughts of maybe she escaped and will come back to me someday away. It doesn't do me a bit of good, so please let's just get on with this."

She nodded and conducted the interview, not surprised when he provided no new details. She could see it haunted him, and she wondered how he was yesterday. He had to have been happy at least for a short time. He had to not thought about the worst day of his life. He had to have been an inch closer to making peace. He wasn't like this. Nobody was like this until they called. She hated cold cases. She hated not being able to give him Lana's body. She hated every second of this interview, but there was nothing more she could do. A little girl's life was on the line, and she needed to find her. They had nowhere new to look, so to the parents they turned yet again.

"Thank you for coming in." She clicked her pen shut. "I appreciate it."

He nodded and rose from his chair. "I know you can't tell me everything to do with this case, but please let me know if you find him."

"I will."

––

"What can you recall from before Amy was taken?" Sasha asked, pen posed over her notepad, knowing these notes would be twins to the ones in the file already. "Was she acting differently? Hanging around any new people?"

"No. Amy was the same as always. She was a bit nervous, I suppose, but she was beginning college in a few weeks." She arranged her files for the trial. "She was turning eighteen in a couple weeks. I was planning the party—I always plan ahead—and it was the first one I'd actually be there for. I—I always managed to miss her birthday. It was...this week long affair, but somehow...it escaped me. She'd call, all excited, and I'd promise I'd make it down, but...I never made it beyond the phone call."

Sasha nodded. "Amy lived with your parents, didn't she?"

"She used to, but she moved in with me to attend college here." She adjusted her watch. "Another girl is missing. I saw it on the news. She's fifteen?"

"Yes. We have reason to suspect it's the same man who...kidnapped your sister."

"Amy was a good girl. She didn't party. She didn't steal or lie. She did what she was asked. She came up here for college, and she was taken from my townhouse. I don't know why her. She didn't even know anyone in New York. She spent most of her time working. She didn't have a boyfriend, and from what she told me, people at her work liked her." She shrugged. "That's all there is to it."

She nodded. "I'm sorry to reopen old wounds."

"Just find the man who did this to my little sister. I think it's been long enough." She collected her things. "The recess is up. If you'll excuse me."

She let her pass and sighed, shaking her head and tucking the notepad into her pocket. There was nothing new here, but Sasha would check on Amy's fellow employees. They might not even work there anymore, and they might now know anything either, but she had to try. There wasn't anything she more could do.

––

"Phillip isn't cooperating," Michonne declared. "He called us substandard, unprofessional layabouts. He says if we'd done our job properly the first time, he wouldn't have lost his daughter, and he wouldn't have to repeatedly tell us the events prior to her kidnapping."

"He wants blood." Rosita stood in the doorway to her office, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. "He doesn't care if it's ours or the killer's. He sees us as one and the same. He needs someone to blame, and we're it. Us and this hijo de puta."

"Andrea feels guilty." Sasha finished her report, tossing in some big words to make it appear different than its siblings. "She blames herself for what happened to Amy. If she hadn't been working, if she had been around more, if she had warned Amy of the dangers of the city."

"She told you that?" Michonne drank from her mug.

"It was in her eyes." She tossed her pen in the cup. "And Phillip's not wrong about us."

"We're not layabouts," Tara protested. "Nor are substandard or unprofessional."

"We haven't found him," Sasha asserted. "Five years, twenty-four girls, and we got squat. We're going on twenty-five. We don't know anything more than the detectives who first worked this case back in '11. What the hell kind of detectives are to let him keep on taking kids?"

Before anyone could answer or sink further into misery, Carol and Daryl Dixon arrived at last. Traffic was a bitch, and they didn't exactly live down the street. Sasha only managed to come back so soon, because the courthouse wasn't a long trip. She probably walked back to clear her head. Nobody blamed her for wanting air. There didn't seem to be enough of it in the bullpen.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dixon." Rosita smiled warmly. "Thank you for coming down."

"Have you found anything?" Carol didn't hold her breath. She didn't follow much on TV, but she had heard comments from people around the dinner she worked in when the previous child was taken. She had Googled him, seeing this man had evaded the police for five years, had captured over twenty girls, and less than half of them had been found. Their bodies anyway. She spend the majority of the morning bawling. What else was there to do? She had asked Rosita that. What could she do to help? Sit and wait. Wait for a call from them. Sit and try not to dwell of the fact her little girl had been snatched in the night with them right down the hall. They were right down the hall...

"Not yet, but we're hopeful." CSU had found a moss on the carpet from the man's shoe and told them he hadn't step in it on his way in or out of the house. She hoped it meant this moss was from wherever he held the girls. They were analyzing it now, and they had to wait. Collect the facts and wait. She despised waiting, but perhaps this moss would give a location.

"I'd like to ask you about last night," Michonne motioned for them to follow her into the interview room. "Just to see if you remember anything new."

"I'll join her." Sasha shot into the room before Tara could.

Rosita hugged her elbows. "I'll call Porter, try and rush the results of their findings. Why don't you try and assuage Phillip's anger. I know it's not the best job, but it's better than leaving your mind to wander."

She groaned once Rosita was in her office and plucked the phone from its cradle, dialing the too familiar number of Phillip Blake. She tapped her pencil against the desk, her eyes drifting to the picture of her family, zooming in on Meghan. She was a year younger than their vic. She could have easily been Sophia. Just last week when she was wandering the streets drunk off her ass. He could have taken her. He could have guided her into his car, and she wouldn't have put up a fight. She wouldn't have pleaded for him to let her go. She wouldn't have been scared. The booze would have numbed her, and she likely would have giggled and stumbled wherever he lead her. Not like Sophia and the other girls. They were instantly filled with trepidation. No doubt they were thinking the worst. _Would I be raped? Would I be beaten? Would I be tortured? Starved? Abandoned somewhere to rot on the side of the road? Would I ever seen my parents again? Would I ever see sunlight again? Would I ever? Would I ever? Would I ever?_

Her sigh caught in her throat, and she squeezed her eyes shut, swaying her head back and forth to force that train of thought away. She couldn't go there. She couldn't linger. She had a pissed off father to try and convince to help them. Help _them._

Man, Sasha was right. Why should he help them? He had lost everything he ever loved, because they were incompetent. They had let this man walk all over them. They hadn't been good enough. They hadn't been intelligent or quick enough to stop him. All they did was ask the same questions over and over again, further wounding the victims' families. They were doing more harm than the killer to his victims. They were the good guys, but how good could they be when this one fucker slipped by them again and again and again. Twenty-four times. Once or twice or three times was understandable, but twenty-fucking-four? They might as well have unlocked the doors and hauled the girls out to his car for them, for Christ's sake. When put like that, it was no wonder Phillip wanted their heads on spikes.


	13. Dear Diary

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

"Phillip, I understand. I have a niece. I get it. If I were you, I'd raise hell too. I'd burn this city down trying to find this asshole," Tara began. "But we have a little girl whose life is—"

"In danger?" he seethed. "Why should I care? _My_ little girl is already dead. Or is she? That's—that's right, you don't know. You never found her killer, or her body."

She recoiled. "I know it's...unbearable. I know it's the worst mystery in the entire world, and I can't sooth that. I can't make it right, but I can—I can find this man. I can find him and bring a little girl home before it's too late. Please, help us do that, Phillip."

"Why should I? You've done nothing—absolutely nothing—for me. You haven't found a hair or whisper of my little girl. I can't come to terms with the unknown, detective. I can't dare to hope, because it's been too long. He's had my little girl for nearly five months, and now he has a new one, so I know that means she's gone. And—and I can't even bury my daughter. You won't find her body, just like the Martinez girl and the countless others, right?"

She bowed her head. "We're trying."

"That's not good enough. My child is dead, my wife is dead, and I'm not going to relive that day for you to call me and relay information I've heard a million times. I don't have the strength for that, detective, so goodbye. Don't call me."

"I can always force you to talk to us," she challenged. "I call up a judge, and—"

"Be my guest. Do it." He hung up.

"Damn it." She slammed the phone down and dragged her hands through her hair.

"You all right?"

She spun around at the sound of Denise's voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Rosita called me." She scanned her eyes over Tara's face. "Are you all right, Tara?"

"No. This case...is a nightmare."

"I heard about it. I'm here to speak to the parents, try and alleviate their guilt and aggravation. Rosita's hoping it'll trigger something, but who can know?" She gave a small smile. "I'm here if you need to chat too, you know."

"I'm good. I need to talk to Rosita about Phillip Blake."

She nodded. "I'll be in the lounge. If you change your mind, or need a break."

"Thanks." She watched her strolled toward the lounge, her foul mood have packed up and gone to France, and she smiled to herself before knocking on the door to have a word with Rosita.

––

"She was in bed when you got home?" Sasha met the mother's red-rimmed eyes.

"Yes. She was passed out with one of her books across her stomach. I moved it to the nightstand, and I turned her light off." She swallowed. "She sleeps like a corpse."

"And you didn't hear anything throughout the night?"

"No. If I thought I heard something, I would have checked. The only thing to hear was our neighbor's dog. He never shuts up. We've learned...to sleep through it."

Daryl saw the self-reproach in his wife's sapphire's eyes, and he reached under the table to lace his fingers consolingly through hers, knowing exactly what her thoughts were. "In the morning, I woke up first. Sophia's door was ajar, but I didn't think anything of it. Carol went to wake her while I made breakfast, and... Well, she had been taken. We didn't move anything, just called the cops. She's a good kid. She'd never run away. I mean, once when she was a kid, but we'd just grounded her. She thought that was the only solution."

Carol smiled feebly in memory. "I saw the note on her pillow, and that's when we called the police. It wasn't from her diary, or her handwriting. Besides she'd never write something like that."

"Like that?" Michonne set her hands on the table.

"Something so depressing. She isn't depressed. She's happy. I'm not just saying that. We're close, and we talk. I know my daughter. She's happy."

She nodded.

Sasha led them to the lounge, knowing they wouldn't leave until they had either their daughter or answers, like the many parents before them, and she tapped her nails across her desk, seeing Michonne sitting in the interview room still. She called to her.

"Carol said Sophia had a book over her chest?" Michonne held out the photos of the girl's bedroom. "She put it on the nightstand."

"Yeah. So?" Her eyes went to the nightstand. "It's not there."

"No, it's not." She set the file on her partner's desk. "So, either Carol lied about Sophia being in bed, or he took the book."

"Why would he take a kid's book?" She lowered the photo. "It was a school book. Probably Arthur Conan Doyle."

"Then the mother's lying," Michonne stated.

"About what? You think she wanted the daughter gone? Left the window open for this asshole? You're a mom. Would you do this?"

"Never, and I'm not saying Carol had anything to do with the kidnapping, but Sophia might have been missing sooner than we think. We need to straighten our timeline, so find a way to built trust with her and get her away from her husband. It might be she moved the book somewhere and forgot. It might one of the new members of CSU moved the book. It could be that he took the book for some reason and has done it the entire time, but we only just caught it. Nevertheless we need to find out."

"Why do you sound like this is something for me to do?"

"You're the best at building a rapport, and I'm going to try and speak to Phillip face to face. He can't avoid me if I'm outside his house."

"Good luck with that."

"You too."

Rosita caught Michonne before she could leave, informing her of where Tara was and what she was doing, and she hung back to wait for Tara to force Phillip in. A girl was missing, and he wanted to clamp his mouth shut? No one was having that.

– – –

"Penny was a good kid." He rubbed a hand over his face in the interviewed room, his eyes bloodshot from either lack of sleep or the alcohol. "She made straight A's. She hadn't missed school since she was in fifth grade. She didn't drink or do drugs. She could be mouthy, but so was her mother. She was too young to date. There were no new men or boys in her life."

"She seemed the same before she was taken?" Tara skimmed through the photos from Penny's crime scene.

"Yes. She was the same. A little distant a week before, but she had exams. She was a freshmen, and she was terrified if she failed those tests, she'd fail the grade. She...had a focus I'd never seen before. She wanted to be a heart surgeon. She would have been amazing."

"What do you mean by that? You never mentioned her being distant."

"It wasn't physically distant. She... She would be sitting in front of me, but she'd be so lost in her studies she might as well have been on Mars. She wasn't naturally intelligent. She had to work for it, and her mother and I understood. We gave her space."

"How much space?" Michonne demanded.

"Not enough for someone to creep into her life and steal her from us," he remonstrated. "We kept an eye on her. She spent hours in the library, but it's a public place, and we always picked her up on time. She never was alone. She didn't talk to anybody at the library. She was too busy studying."

"Why didn't you mention this before?"

"I did! The asshole cop who took my statement told me it was unessential details!" He slammed his hand down on the table. "Could this have helped?! Could it?!"

"We don't know." Tara slipped out of her seat. "We'll follow up on this. Thank you for coming in."

Michonne held the door open for her, and they both wanted to deck the old detective who used to be here. He was partnered with Lerner. A total rookie. He didn't last the year, clearly, and he might have caused a little girl to be killed. Nothing in her life was unessential, especially during a kidnapping investigation.

"I'll call him in." Michonne stepped toward Rosita's office. "And tell Rosita."

"I'll pick up lunch. I'm starving." She shrugged into her jacket, asking the Dixons if they wanted anything, they declined, but Sasha told her what she wanted. She asked Denise and got her order. She knew what Michonne and Rosita liked, so she headed out.

– – –

Sasha had yet to get through Carol's walls of sorrow and self-reproach. Denise couldn't even come close to talking to her either. The father, Daryl, was more approachable right now. He wasn't the most talkative man, but he reminded her of Dennis. She got a handle on how he was feeling, and she tried to help him through it, but he wanted his daughter back naturally, and he wanted his wife to stop blaming herself. She didn't know what was going to happen. They all slept through that damn dog's barking. He couldn't make her see that, and it broke his heart. Denise hoped to return Sophia back to them alive and with the man who did this in handcuffs.

As it neared nine o' clock, Daryl insisted Carol go home and eat something, and Rosita urged her squad to go home and rest at eleven. They would need sharp, fresh minds tomorrow. They were bringing in Detective Crowley who butchered the Blake interviewed, the lab would have their analysis done by then, and they would proceed from there. Right now, Michonne needed to go home and hug her kids, Tara and Sasha needed to have dinner and pack up her things, and she needed to see her son. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, but they had leads. They weren't trapped in a box, in a time frame. They had a real chance of getting this perp. They would seize this opportunity for all it was worth.

Tara slid the last box labelled kitchen to the far corner of the living room by the others, Sasha packing up her movie collection with her second glass of wine, and Meghan was folding her shirts and tucking them in her suitcases.

"The takeout should be here soon." Tara wiped her brow and tossed the throw pillows from her couch. "I double checked with the movers, and they'll be here tomorrow morning. Lilly's going to handle it, thank God."

"Don't like movers?" Sasha chuckled. "Why am I not surprised you own _Xena_?"

"Gotta respect the subtext lesbians," she replied. "And yes, I don't like movers. They want to know where this goes or that goes, and I don't even know where I want it to go. I just know I have two bedroom and a glass stove top."

She sipped her wine and tapped the box shut, grabbing a smaller one for the remaining movies. "Do you think we'll find the girl?"

"Honestly? I don't have a clue." She plopped down on her couch. "I hope so, but hope only gets us so far."

"I know."

Silence seeped into the space between the two, Sasha finished her wine and decided that was enough for the night, and Tara slumped on the lumpy couch, not wanting to think for one more second on the case. She couldn't get it out of her mind. She blinked, and it was there. She coughed, and it was there. She ate lunch, and it was right there. All those victims scattered out there somewhere, their bodies hidden as if they were shameful, not knowing peace or justice. It ate at her, and she was tempted to call Denise, to hear her voice, to converse about something trivial. What she wouldn't give for trivial.

A knock on the door pulled Tara to her feet, Sasha labelled the movie boxes, and Tara found Rosita and Alejándro in her doorway. She greeted them with a smile and allowed them to enter; Alejándro jumped on the couch with a stuffed lamb hugged to his chest, and Rosita smiled at them.

"Spencer has to work late tonight, and I can't sit around. I thought I'd lend you a hand." She slipped out of her jacket.

"I was about to start the bedroom. Meghan's gotten my clothes, but I have books and pictures and spare sheets and crude." She swept her hand toward the hall. "I ordered dinner. Have you guys eaten?"

"He wasn't hungry, so no, we haven't eaten yet."

"I don't mind sharing. I ordered extra anyway." She turned to Alejándro. "Hey, kid. How are you?"

"I'm okay." He smiled shyly at her, having only met Tara a couple times.

"Do you have anything to keep him entertained?" Tara whispered to Rosita. "I don't have anything. I don't even have cable. I disconnected it, 'cause I'm moving."

"I brought my tablet. He can watch some of his cartoons."

Tara nudged her before she pull it from her purse, Alejándro had placed himself on Sasha's lap and was helping her pack up Tara's movies, and Rosita chuckled softly. He knew Sasha well. Rosita had a lot of worries when she was pregnant, and she talked to Sasha about them, who spoke to Bob about them. She did the same when Alejándro was an infant. Michonne was ironing out her relationship with Rick back then so she turned to Sasha. She married a doctor, after all, and Bob calmed her fears. Sasha was practically Alejándro's best friends. Her and Denise. Or anyone he's talking to for the moment, really.

"C'mon, let's leave them to it."

Sasha tried to call out to them, but they disappeared down the hallway, abandoning her with the five-year-old and his stuffed lamb. She didn't mind him sitting on her lap or pulling down movies to "help" her pack. Kids made her nervous. Very, very nervous, and she had two glasses of wine, and she wasn't affected by it, but she liked her senses to be sharp with young children around.

"What's this?" He held out a thin book.

"Uh, it's a book." She carefully retook it and set it in the box. "It's a boring book. There aren't even any pictures."

He reached over and yanked down another movie, sitting back on her lap and looking at the cover. Sasha set a hand on his curly hair and rested her head on her hand. She was glad to have stopped at two glasses.

Meghan carried a packed suitcase out to the living room and smiled at her. "Hey."

Alejándro's head lifted at the sound of her voice. "Hi." He waved.

"Hi." She tucked loose behind her ear. "You're Rosita's son, right?"

"Yes, he is." Sasha lifted him up off her lap and stretched her legs. "Watch him for a second. I need to use the bathroom."

Meghan bent down beside him. "So, wanna help me finish the bookshelf?"

He agreed. Sasha used the restroom, and she spotted her friends. In Tara's bedroom, Rosita properly folded Tara's spare blankets with her, and Sasha helped them fit it into the case it came in originally. Rosita didn't want to talk about the case, but she found herself speaking on it anyway.

"I was pregnant with Alejándro when the first girl went missing." She set the bag on the floor by the door. "Spencer didn't want me to strain myself, but I kept thinking "What if this was my baby?", "What if I were forced to wait for someone to call and tell me my child was dead?". Spencer told me not to worry about it, but how could I not?"

"Five years later, and you still have the same thoughts." Tara found the protective slips for her photos and began to place them in a box. "I worried for Meghan. I told Lilly to keep an eye on her."

"I was so relieved when they told me it was a boy. I knew our guy only went after girls, and I was crying, because I was so happy. From one out of a million Alejándro was safe. Thinking back...I was so stupid and utterly selfish."

"You had pregnancy brain. Those thoughts were allowed."

She snickered. "That doesn't exactly make me feel better."

"Well, ask Sasha to make you feel better, because that's all I have." She wrestled to fit a slip over a frame that was just an smidgen too big.

"Be thankful you don't have kids." Rosita offered Tara a knife, Tara narrowed her eyes at the sight of the random knife, but she accepted it. "I mean, I don't regret Alejándro. He's the best thing I've ever done. He's... God, I can't explain how amazing it is to have him, but the stress is...intense. As a cop, I know the risks even more, and it only twists my stomach into knots. I've broke stress balls worrying about him."

"So, have kids and put them in protective bubbles, got it." Tara waggled her eyebrows at Sasha, using the knife to slice open the side of the cover, and she handed the knife back, setting the now protected frame down in the box.

Sasha crossed her arms. "Do you have a girlfriend we don't know about?"

"No, I'm single and alone."

"I could set you up with someone," Sasha suggested.

"No, thank you. The last time I went out with someone, it didn't end well." She hadn't even called Holly. She wasn't sure she even knew her number. Lilly would have it if she ever wanted to take her out again. She didn't have time for that right now. She wasn't interested in Holly. She was...really not interested in Holly. She was before, just a bit, but now there wasn't a trace of attraction for her. And she knew exactly why.

"It's kinda funny," Rosita commented. "I had plans to set you up with Denise, but...then the shooting happened, and you became her patient. Now she's interested in someone. I don't know who, but I hope it works out."

Tara jolted. "Wait, she likes someone?"

"Yes." She ambled toward the closet and finished folding the last few shirts. "You know, you should wear some of these more often. This color would look good on you."

"Lilly bought those for me." Tara pressed her lips together, lingering on what Rosita had just divulged about Denise for only a moment, not wanting them to notice. "I like my regular blouses."

"Just try it."

"No."

"Tara," Meghan called, "the food's here!"

They rested to eat and talk about anything but the case that was haunting the worse than any poltergist, and Meghan played with Alejándro when he'd gotten bored with eating. Tara was playing with her food more than eating it, Rosita had noticed, but she didn't say anything. She continued her conversation with Sasha, and eventually most of their dinner had been consumed.

Tara dropped her leftovers in the fridge and resumed packing her bedroom. She worked quietly and quickly. Sasha and Rosita were discussing lunch plans or something. She wasn't listen, only heard the occasional word like "lunch" and "we" and "maybe". Her mind was absorbed in the case. She knew she should think about the move and what she would do if Lilly couldn't make it tomorrow, but she wasn't. She couldn't. It brought on a headache when she thought about it, and she didn't want to consider having to leave this case to handle the movers. If Lilly bailed, Tara would sue her. Somehow, she would find a way to sue her. This case was too important for distraction.

––

Tara wasn't positive when she'd decided to take a break, but near four in the morning when the majority of her apartment was packed and labelled and placed neatly against the wall in the living, she prepared a pot of coffee. She knew she couldn't sleep if she tried. Her mind was filled with the details of the case, and she couldn't let it wander from there. A child's life was on the line, and she would bring her home alive. They would find this son of a bitch. They couldn't let him slip into the dark again.

Rosita was lying against the arm of the couch, Alejándro on her lap in her arms, hugging his stuffed lamb to his chest, and the blanket that typically hung on the back of the couch was loosen thrown over them. Tara suspected Meghan had done it, finding the young girl conked out on the floor on the throw pillows Lilly had insisted on buying for Tara when she bought the couch, using her jacket as a blanket. Tara smiled, knowing Sasha was curled up on bed with her jacket, and she decided to make breakfast. She had to get rid of the food items here, and she didn't have that much here as she'd forgotten to stop and pick up groceries. She did have eggs and bacon and some questionable hash browns from one time she decided to have breakfast for dinner. She couldn't recall how long ago it was, but as long as nobody could prove she'd killed them all with bad potatoes, it was fine. Her eyes fell to the five-year-old and her niece. Maybe just let the kids have eggs and bacon.

The minute the bacon became to sizzle, everyone woke up it seemed. Sasha dug out the paper plates Tara used during Noah's birthday party last year, Rosita filled plastic cups with orange juice, and Tara had to dig out coffee cups to use. They crowded the living room and coffee table, laughter and good conversation filling the room. It was a good morning.

Sasha was ready to leave and offered to take Meghan home as it was on her way, Tara agreed, and Rosita cleaned up the breakfast mess, repacking the used pans and cups. Tara readied Alejándro for his trip back home, earning giggles here and there from silly faces, and she beamed at the precious child before rising.

Rosita shrugged into her coat. "Thank you. It would've taken me half an hour to get him ready. Once he's shoes are off, the fight begins."

"I know. Meghan was the same way. Only worse 'cause she'd take off everything. Until she was four, she'd come into my apartment, strip off her clothes down to her diaper and roam around. Lilly and I had to double team her. It wasn't pretty."

She chuckled. "I can't even see that."

"Well, something happened overnight and the clothes stayed on. I think Dad talked to her, but who knows." It could also have been the story Tara told her about the gremlins who possess unclothed child bodies, but who can say?

"Well, thank you for dinner and breakfast. It's been a long time since I've just sat down and didn't work."

"You're welcome."

"I'll see you at the office." She squeezed Tara's arm. "And I'm bringing coffee."

"Let me walk with you. I'm headed to the station now."

"Okay." She shouldered her bag and clasped her son's hand.

Tara locked up after them, seeing her asshole neighbor in the hall, and Rosita was about to ask how Tara was feeling as she hadn't gotten around to it last night. She saw the look the older man down the hall was giving her detective, so she adjusted Alejándro to one arm and reached over to lace her fingers through Tara's.

Rosita pulled out her winning smile to make their "relationship" perfectly clear. "We're going to be late, _honey_."

"Then let's hurry." With her free hand and ruffled Alejándro's curls, and he giggled then glared once those curls fell in his face. Tara glanced over. "Good morning, Mr. Snider."

"Morning!" Alejándro cheerfully echoed after her, waving at the stranger.

Tara laughed at the precious little boy. She had to admit the impossible had happened: she was in love with a male. Sure, he was five, and she loved him like family, but she never thought that'd happen. Lilly seemed content with only Meghan, and no surprise half-siblings had shown up, so it was marked as impossible. Until now. This little cutie had stolen her heart.

The neighbor's jaw hit the floor, Tara and Rosita headed to the steps, and Alejándro began to chatter about some show he and Meghan had watched last night before passing out. Rosita only released her hand when they reached her car, and they said goodbye for the time being.

– – –

"Crowley's on his way in." Michonne was already in the bullpen, working on her second cup of coffee. "Lerner's going to speak with Morales' neighbors to see if they know where they are. Sasha will be a bit late, but you already know that."

"You know I'm not Rosita, right?" Tara draped her coat over the back of her chair.

"I know, but I'm about to interview Crowley, so just fill her in." She smiled suddenly. "Good morning, by the way."

"Yeah, good morning, asshole." She grinned. "Geez, Michonne, manners!"

"I know. You'd think I'd remember simple greetings. It's just—humans are so weird. Here I thought possessing a body would be the challenging part."

"I knew it. Noah owes me twenty bucks."

She chuckled and hoped this mood remained. With the severity of this case, she knew it was false hope, but she had to have something to cling to. This man had eluded them for five years, who was to say he wouldn't do it for another five years? While she prayed not, praying did little in the face of facts. Let this Crowley lead go somewhere

––

"Grimes is in with Crowley, Lerner's out, so why don't you and Sasha review the other diary entries?" Rosita dictated. "Try and see if any words or phrases are repeated. Just see if we missed anything over the years, all right?"

They nodded and collected the entries, taking them lounge for some quiet, and Tara prepared another pot of coffee. She didn't like to read the diary entries. She didn't like knowing a teenager had such warped thoughts, such self-inflicted pain and such self-loathing. She didn't like the strains on the pages from tears and from blood. They hadn't found a match for the blood, but by the coloration and a confession in one of entries, it belonged to B. It was her blood. From what she wrote, it was from self-harm. It broke Tara's heart into a million pieces to know this young girl had suffered for so long in silence. She couldn't imagine how that felt. If Meghan was ever this far gone, she hoped she'd come to her. She hoped she'd see it. She hoped she could do something before it was too late.

 _January 10_ _th_ _2010\. I don't know if I can live my life like this. I don't know if I can tolerate waking up and pretending, putting on a happy face and trying for them. They come down on me so hard, and they don't understand how I try. Every second I am alive, I am killing myself trying! I know it's not enough. I know I'm not good enough. I know I'm not the daughter they wanted. I know I'm worthless and stupid and a mistake! But I am trying. God, I am trying so much, and it hurts. Every time I breath it hurts. Can't they see that? Can't they see any of it? Are they blind? Or am I too good at pretending? Perhaps I've worn my mask so well for so long there isn't anything else to see. That has to be it. I mean I am nothing but this lying mask, so why see beyond it? -B_

 _August 17_ _th_ _2009\. A new school. High school. I'm really scared. I don't know how well I'll fit in. My only friend will be attending a different school, which I only found out about last night (!) but Mom says I'll make new friends. I'm not so sure. I'm terrible at conversation. I don't know how in the world I'll find anybody with my interests. I'm not like my brother. I'm not funny. I'm not outgoing. I don't know how I'm going to survive four years all alone. It's really scary, but it's not like they'll let me attend a different school. I already tried to talk them into it, but Dad said no. He went to this school, so I was going to do this school. He wouldn't even let me argue my reasons. It's his way or no way. I wasn't surprised. Dad's an asshole sometimes. He doesn't consider what it must be like for someone who isn't like...like him and Mom and AJ. He doesn't get it. And of course he doesn't, Mr. Captain of The Football Team, Mr. Prom King, Mr. Class President, Mr. Most Likely To Succeed! All I am, all I will ever be, is the girl who sits silently in the back of class and isn't noticed! I'm nothing like them, but God forbid they notice! -B_

 _April 15th 2008. Okay, okay, okay. I am so going to write on you this year! I've had you for two years, but I was a kid who had nothing to say. I'm a teenager now, so I'm sure I'll have many things to write about. _

_July 1st 2009. Okay, I failed. I utterly failed to write beyond that page, but I am seriously doing this. Besides I need an outlet with high school starting soon. I'm super nervous! I can't wait to spend the last four years of school with my bestie! We are gonna have so much fun, and I won't let anything bring me down. It's been a struggle lately, with my kid brother trying out for football this year and Dad devoting all his time to teaching him the plays and whatever. It was nice at first, to not have Dad on my butt all the time to do my chores or lend Mom a hand, but now it's all about football. We can't even sit down for dinner without it coming up, and it sucks._

 _I am totally happy for him, don't get me wrong, but I have things going on too. I had an art program last month, and I did really well. The teachers said my art was really good and I should come back for the fall program, but I doubt that'll be happening. It's not football so it doesn't matter. He hasn't said it like that yet, but he might as well. He might as well even say I don't matter, because I'm not some football-crazed moron!_

 _...I keep getting angry. Irrationally so, and I don't know why. I love my dad. I love my brother. I'm happy for him, but I'm not happy at all. I feel...like I'm empty all the time, and I tried to talk to Mom about it, but she was distracted by work. I didn't want to get in her way, so I'll just push it back. I'm sure it's nothing. -B_

 _February 14th 2011. Mom and Dad went out for Valentines Day, and little bro had a date of his own. Sort of a date. He's, like, two, so it's not a real date. (Okay, he's fourteen, not two, but he's my kid brother, so he's two.) I decided to take a walk. Dad told me not to go into the city alone, but I'm practically an adult (Not really!). I can handle myself. He taught me how to take care of myself, and if I see anyone I know, I think I'll dive off a bridge._

 _I can't handle being around people. I can't handle the noise. I can't handle the eyes on me. It makes my skin crawl, and I want the world to go away. I can't do it. I pretend I can. I pretend and smile and laugh on cue, but I can't do it tonight. I need space. I need to be alone. I need the night air and..._

 _I didn't mention it, because I was worried Mom might read my diary, but evidently she doesn't. If she ready even a page of the last couple years, she'd have a stroke and throw me in a nuthouse. I wouldn't blame her. I might even welcome it, because I think I am nuts. What I want to do to myself, what I do do to myself, isn't healthy or normal. Most girls my age want makeup or tattoos or boyfriends, but all I want is to die. I want to throw myself off a bridge. I say it all the time, but people laugh like it's a joke. Well, it's not! It's not a damn joke. I want it more than I want to inhale my next breath. I want it so badly that I went to one tonight. It's all hazy. I was crying and rocking myself and holding the railing, and I wanted to step over and fall. I wanted to just plunge into the water and forget what might happen if I resurface. I wanted to forgot the scars on my arms and stomach. I wanted to forget the blade hidden in my bookshelf. I wanted to forget it all. One jump and it could be over._

 _I was so contented at that thought that I smiled, and I was about to climb over when someone called to me. A man, I think. I don't know who he was, but I ran. I ran and ran and ran until suddenly I was away from him and the bridge. I cried in an alley alone for an hour. I found a taxi and used my allowance to pay for it. I got home before anyone else, and nobody noticed anything wrong with me. Good to know my mask is still trusty. -B_

 _February 22nd 2011._ (Blood drops stain the page) _I think I cut too deep. It won't stop bleeding. It's all over the sink and tub. This could be it. This could be the end, and I just wanted to say I love you guys. I love you so much. Please don't be angry with each other or yourselves. I didn't want you to see. I didn't want you to notice my pain, and I didn't want help. I wanted to drown, and it's okay now. I'm okay now. I know it's confusing and terrible, but I'm okay now. You don't have to worry about me anymore. So please, please, please, please, for my sake, don't blame each other. Don't fight. Don't hate. Don't drown in sorrow. I made this choice of my own free will, and I'm okay with it. For the first time...I'm happy again, and I know you aren't happy for me, but...know that this was my choice and I love you guys. I love you guys so, so much. -B_

… _.February 23rd 2011. I didn't cut too deep. I was able to clean up the mess, bandage my arm, and I had to throw my outfit away, but it's... I'm alive, I guess. That's something. Another day here. Great. Mom asks what I want for dinner, and I smile and say: pizza. She laughs and says: not again. I laugh and smile, my wound opening and blood spreading across the white gauze. But we're laughing. We're laughing and talking about dinner. So, it's all good, right? Isn't it all good?_ (Tears obscure the rest of the page.)

Tara swallowed coffee without tasting it, running a hand through her hair. Sasha read them chronologically according to the dates written by B, but Tara read them as they were left at the scene of the abductions. They were brutal, and she could feel the numbness of this poor child seeping out of the pages. She was only about halfway through, although April and July were on the same page, so less than half. She wasn't sure what good reading these would do, but there had to be something here. AJ did them no good, neither did B nor the blood. B had to give them something. She had to. Please, let there be something in these pages apart from the tears and the evidence of depression taking over her.

––

"Why didn't you list in your report Penny Blake had spent many nights alone in the library prior to her kidnapping?" Michonne demanded of her fellow officer.

Crowley leaned back in his chair. "What are you talking about?"

"You were the first one at the scene. You took Phillip's statement. He told us you said this information was 'unessential details'."

He stammered. "No—no. That's not what I said." He scoffed. "He's lying. And besides in all the times you've spoken to Phillip, why didn't he mention this? It's his daughter's kidnapping. I'd have mentioned it, if it were my daughter."

"He wasn't lying. He has no reason to lie, but you do. I'm good at my job, and everything about you is practically screaming lair, so let me make you a deal." She laced her fingers together. "If you confess to leaving this out of the report, I'll let it slide. I just need to know so I can confirm or eliminate it as a targeting ground."

He scratched a hand through his hair and nodded. "Y—yeah, he mentioned her going to the library. I was a rookie, and I was...excited for my first big case. I should've been better. I didn't think—"

"Damn right you didn't think," Michonne hissed. "A child is missing, and you act like a kid on Christmas? It's disgusting, and you better hope this lead goes somewhere."

"Why?" He paled at her meaning. "But you said—"

"We say what we have to in here to get a confession," she interjected. "You should know that." She pulled the door open and sauntered out.


	14. The Call

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

"I feel like I need a hug and a cookie." Tara pushed the last few pages of B's journal away from her to physically put distance between her and those sorrowed words.

"I don't think a cookie will do much." Sasha rested her cheek on her knuckles. "Poor kid."

"I don't think she was a victim," Tara disclosed. "I think she...she may be related to our doer. She could have been what triggered him."

"Or she was his first, and he leaves her diary behind as a way to remember his first kill, to try and keep that rush alive. They say you can never match the feeling of that first kill."

"True."

"All we can really do is speculate. I didn't find anything useful." She gestured to the neatly stacked pile. "There were paragraphs after paragraphs of this little girl sinking into depression, but that's all."

"We don't even know her real name. It could Bethany or Beverly or Bobbie. Or it could be a B for bye. Or B for a nickname." Tara shrugged a shoulder and scooted her pages toward Sasha. "Hell, it could be anything."

"Which is why we need to call Carol in here and see if she moved the book, or if our doer did. If so, we need to contact the other families and ask if any books were taken. It might not much, but it could be something. A constant, like the pages." She rose out of her seat and stretched. "And if not...then at least we can mark it off."

"I'll call her in. If we're lucky, I can sweet talk her into either coming in alone or speaking to me privately."

"Good luck."

Tara returned to her desk and dialed the number to the Dixon's home, standing over her desk and fiddling with a pen while she waited for one of them to pick up. She saw Lerner and Rosita speaking, and she caught a few words. She understood that the Morales' had been located. Lerner and Sasha were about to call them in. She was glad to have one less thing to worry about.

When nobody answered, Tara frowned and decided to drive out there. She would honestly rather conduct this interview face to face. If they were wrong about this she'd want to apologize to Mrs. Dixon's face, allow her to see this was just part of the process, not something Tara actually thought. Or if Mrs. Dixon was lying, Tara would be able read it in her eyes or her body language. She let Rosita know where she was going.

She strolled up the walkway and knocked twice on the door, scanning the yard around her. She didn't have to wait long before the door opened, and Daryl stood there, squinting at the light that pooled in.

"Hello." She showed her shield out of habit. "Detective Chambler, you remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, 'course. Have you found something?" He immediately showed her in.

"No, not yet." Her eyes landed on the picture of Carol and Sophia all decked out for Halloween. Her chest ached. "Uh, I was just wondering if I could speak to your wife, confirm some details from the night Sophia went missing."

"Sure. Hang on."

He vanished down the hall, Tara paced the length of the couch before sitting, and she waited in the living room silently. She could vaguely hear whispering from Daryl, likely to lull Carol out of bed. She had seen this happen before, sometimes with the father, sometimes it was the mother, but it was always there. Getting out of bed, not knowing when or if you'd see your kid again? Tara didn't blame her. She wasn't sure if she could do it herself.

A few minutes later, Carol entered the living room, and Tara knew she'd been crying. She had seen it many times, even worn it herself a couple of them. There was no way Carol could be involved in her daughter's disappearance.

"Detective." Carol's voice was soft and dry, eyes rimmed red and swollen, and she held a stuffed bear from Sophia's room. "You wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes." She saw Daryl lingering in the hall.

Carol followed her gaze to her husband and nodded. "I'm okay."

"I'll make some tea." His gaze moved to the detective. "Do you want anything?"

"No, thank you." Tara smiled politely.

Daryl left them, Carol sat across from Tara, hugging the stuffed bear to her chest, and Tara remembered how Meghan used to do that with her little pink deer. It was her portable security blanket. It was bound to be a stained mess with rips here and there now. She loved it so much, refused to let go of it for a second. Lilly had to bribe her to wash the damn thing. Kid trusted nothing with her deer.

"I'm sorry to stop by unannounced."

"Don't worry about it." Carol snuffled. "It's...good to know you care."

Tara nodded. "Well, let's get down to business then. I was wondering if you could verify something for me."

"Of course—if I can."

"You told us Sophia had fallen asleep that night with a book over her chest, correct?"

"Yes. Why is that important?"

"Bare with me, please. Didn't you also say you moved the book to the nightstand?"

"Yes."

"Okay, so those are facts? You're not lying to protect Sophia?"

"What?" Carol gaped. "Why the hell would I lie? My daughter is _missing_! I want her found alive, and—and I brought her back to us as soon as possible. _I never would_ jeopardize this investigation!"

"I know. I do too, but you see, the book wasn't in her room, Mrs. Dixon. So I'm thinking maybe she snuck out to a party, or to meet a boy, and you knew, but you lied to keep her out of trouble with her father." Tara hated to make these accusations. "If that's true, I need you to be honest with me. For your daughter's sake, I need to know if you allowed her out of the house to attend a party or go on a date or something else her father didn't approve of. You two talked, so maybe she—"

"No," Carol interrupted. "No, no. No. Sophia and I do talk, but no. If she were to ask if she could go to a party or out on a date, it'd be to me and her father, all right? Unlike some, we trust our child. She's a good girl, not a mean bone in her body. She didn't sneak out. She was home. She—she was right here, asleep, and—and she—" She covered her mouth with a trembling hand, tears spilling over, and she flew out of the room.

"Mrs—" Tara had risen with her, but Carol had been too quick. "Damn it."

Daryl had heard Carol raising her voice, but he didn't want to intervene. When he heard her voice break, he couldn't stay in the kitchen. He only saw the bedroom door closing, and he knew it wasn't best to let her be in her current state for even a moment, but he had to dismiss the detective.

"I'm sorry," Tara blurted at the sight of the husband. "I didn't mean to upset her. I had to ask. For investigation's sake, I had to."

"I get it." He crossed his arms. "She's...been in our room for most of the day—and night. I don't think I've ever seen her cry this much."

"I have to cover each angle, even the ones I know weren't a possibility."

"Sophia isn't the type to sneak out of the house. She would have asked, and if we said no, she'd have been pissed, but she would have stayed put. She doesn't give in to peer pressure. She doesn't drink or smoke." Hell, sometimes he'd offer her a beer just for a small taste, or Carol with wine, but she'd crinkle her nose and say no thanks. She was her mom's daughter, that was for sure. He didn't know what the hell she got from him, but he hoped whatever it was, it was enough to keep her alive until they found her. "She really is a good kid."

"I don't doubt it."

"Are you done here? 'Cause she can't go through this again. If you have any questions, ask me."

"May I ask how you're so calm? Your daughter is missing, your wife is...distraught, but you seem to be holding it together. Do you know something we don't?"

"Crying and praying and screaming aren't going to find my daughter," he replied. "I have to...be here for her, and for my wife. I gotta be strong."

"So, you got bloody knuckles from being there for your wife?" She'd seen his wrapped knuckles when he opened the door. He'd probably beaten the shit out of a punching bag.

"Didn't say I hadn't found other ways to channel this shit."

"Whatever helps." She stepped back. "I'll show myself out."

Daryl locked up after the detective and ambled down the hall to the master bedroom, pushing the door open. His already shattered heart broke more at the sight of her coiled up, quivering and clutching Sophia's bear. He had run out of words hours ago, and frankly words weren't shit in this situation.

He climbed onto the bed behind her and carefully lifted her from the mattress and into his arms. He smoothed her hair down, his pinkie briefly catching on unbrushed curls, and he tightened his hold on her.

"I want her back," Carol cried against his shoulder, one arm around his neck, the other clutching the stuffed bear to her chest. "I want our baby back, Daryl." She gasped in air and sobbed it back out. "God, I just want her home."

He rocked her. "Me too." He tucked her head against his chest and kissed the top of her head, wishing he could do more to aid the investigation. She was their little girl, and the moment she needed them most they failed her. They let some fucker slip into their home and take her from her bed— _her bed._ She should be safe there, buried in blankets and pillows, but she wasn't. She wasn't, and they couldn't keep her safe. They didn't protect their little girl, and now... God only knew when... _if_ they'd see her again. Or how they'd see her.

– – –

"I need a Prozac." Tara tossed her phone down on her desk, burying her face in her hands. "I hate this case."

"Well, I have news. It may not brighten your day, and it certainly won't crack this case wide open, but it's something."

"Lay it on me." She rubbed her eyes and dropped her hands to her desk to look at Grimes.

"Your sister called and said she had your apartment all set up. Well, at least the furniture. Oh, and you have a date."

"Thank God. I can just crash on my couch tonight."

"Did you not hear the last bit of that?"

"Yes, I did. Who is this date with?"

"It's lunch with Denise. She called about twenty minutes ago. She said to meet at your coffee place at one, if you could get away." Michonne checked the time written on the notepad. "Or maybe noon? I can't tell. I've written so much in the past hour that my pen stopped halfway through, and I think my hand was cramping, but there is an O and N."

"I'll text her, but thank you for taking the messages."

"Just answer your phone so Lilly won't call mine." She sheepishly held her phone up. "Judith's gotten into the habit of playing with my ringtones, and it's...awkward to be calling a victim's family and _Barbie Girl_ begins to play..." The song had made it onto her phone as a joke from Carl and Andre.

"Oh, no."

"Yeah, and it was Blake."

"Oh, no!" She chuckled at Michonne's wide eyes and slow nodding. "What did you say?"

"I didn't. I pretended it wasn't happening and ignored the call."

"It's not a good week for him."

"No, it's not a good week for anyone." She leaned forward. "Pick me up a coffee and peanut butter marble brownie while you're out."

"That's not lunch, Michonne."

"I know, but I want it."

Tara nodded and called Denise to see if they had plans at one or noon. She could hear music in the background, and she apologized for interrupting the session. Denise assured her it was okay and told her to meet her at one. Tara agreed and smiled to herself. She had something to look forward now.

––

Manny Morales, who was two years divorced and living in Queens with joint custody of his son Louis, arrived at the station in a somewhat timely manner. Miranda Morales lived in Manhattan and was on her way there after they'd gotten her number from him and called her. Tara had gone to lunch, so Rosita and Michonne conducted the interview, letting Sasha and Dawn grab a bit to eat. Sasha insisted on buying them something, not listening to any of their arguments about having no appetite.

"Mr. Morales." Rosita seated herself across from. "You're a difficult man to track down."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't reply to that. "You wanted to talk about Eliza?"

Michonne lingered by the two-way mirror. "The detectives told you another girl went missing?"

"Yeah, the Dixon girl. I saw it on the news last night." He rested his intertwined fingers on the table. "It was like deja vu. I thought...for a second it was my...my daughter. Stolen from her bed in the night, a page left behind as the only evidence a crime had been committed..."

"I'm sorry to make you revisit this," Rosita began. "I know it's been a couple years, but do you recall Eliza having a book in her room? One she'd been reading, or one she had to read for school?"

His dark brows furrowed at the unexpected question, his lips parting slightly, ready to answer an entirely different question, and he blinked. "I—I'm sorry, what?"

"Our latest victim and the one before had a book taken from their rooms. Both school assigned books, like _Hound of The Baskerville_ and _And Then There Were None_. Did Eliza have a book too?" They hadn't established if he grabbed the books because they were school books, or just books the girls were reading. It was the second confirmed connection. Books and diary pages.

"I don't know. You'd have to ask her mother."

"We will." Michonne shifted her weight.

"What do books have to do with her murder?"

"We don't know, but it's a connection two of them have. It has meaning." Even though they just didn't know what the hell that meaning was.

––

Tara grinned widely at the sight of Denise and met her by the table. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"You're not."

"Five minutes late, actually."

"Oh." Denise chuckled, and it was a nervous sound. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

As well as having delicious sweets and knockout coffee, they also served a variety of lunch items. It was a recent installment made about five months ago to drum up more service, not that they needed it. Tara had only tried one, so she decided to go for something new. Denise appeared distracted, hardly touching her food, and Tara was concern. Normally with a case like this Tara would be the one poking at her food with the fork, and unless one of her clients confessed to murder or arson or some other heinous crime, she shouldn't be this zoned out. Had it been a rough morning for her as well?

"Is everything okay?" Tara set her drink down.

Denise blinked back into reality and out of her head. "Yes, yeah. I'm sorry. It's been a long day."

"And it's not even over," Tara mused.

She chuckled, perhaps too loudly. "No, it's not."

"I've been there. I currently am there, but you get used to it." She checked the time. "Excuse me for a sec."

"Okay." Denise dropped her fork and sighed once Tara was out of hearing range. She hadn't thought this through. Tara was working a case where _stressful_ was nowhere near appropriate enough a word to cover it. She shouldn't be doing this now. Once it was solved and put to bed, she could... _Chicken out like you're trying now and never go through with it._ "Uhhh." She moaned softly.

She covered her eyes with her hand and shook her head. Her anxiety and fear getting the better of her once again. If she could channel her brother and have a teeny, tiny speck of his confidence, of his bravery, she could do this without even thinking. She would have done this last week, last month! A million times over! She likely laugh herself too! Dennis actually had laughed at her when she talked to him about this. He was an asshole though, and she was digressing.

The point was she didn't have his confidence, maybe not even any confidence, and she wasn't sure she could go through this now. There was nothing stopping her, only herself, and she hated that. She hated being afraid and over-analyzing everything to the point where only negativity remained. It was stupid. All she had to do was say eight little words. Eight words. Why the hell was it such a challenge?

She dropped her hand to the table, slightly wincing at the stinging that shot through her hand, and she swallowed her fear at the sight of Tara walking back to the table.

"Sorry. Michonne wanted me to get her coffee and a brownie. I didn't want to forget, and this way they'll be warm by the time I arrive." She adjusted feet on the bar under the table. "What were we talking about?"

"I can't be your therapist anymore," Denise declared, mustering her courage. "If you need someone to speak to about grief or—or anxiety or even the shooting, I can recommend a few. We went to school together, so I know these guys personally. I'd trust them with you and any issues that may arise."

"What?" Tara shrank back in her seat.

"I would suggest Eric, but he typically works with kids and teenagers. He has a way with them, and he's an easy guy to like. Once minute with him, and you're telling him your entire life story. He has an honest face, helps build trust." She tucked hair behind her ear that wasn't there to tuck and couldn't meet Tara's eyes for more than a second, if she was lucky. "However there is Benson. She's worked with a lot of cops and veterans. She's amazing. I think you'd like her."

"You—you're throwing me off on some random woman?" Tara was trying to figure out where—and why—the conversation had taken this turn. "Am I a lousy patient, or something? I mean, I'm not really your patient, but still. It's like you're firing me."

"What? No! No, no, that's not at all what I'm trying to do. Well, it is, but not in that way. Not to be cruel." She wanted the floor to swallow her whole. "I—I just meant that I can't see you as a therapist anymore. It has nothing to do with you as a person."

"Great, now you're, like, breaking up with me," Tara teasingly said.

Denise stared pathetically, mouth open in a small O, and she looked pained. "Mmm..."

"Care to tell me why you can't see me as a therapist anymore?" She cleared her throat. "And does that mean I can't see you...outside your office anymore?"

"No." She was about to add more when her phone rang, and she wanted to hit her head against the table. She checked to see who it was and frowned. "Hello? Yes, this is she."

Tara watched Denise's expression go from confused to apprehensive to unnerved. "What is it? What's happened?"

"I have to go." She was on her feet and in her coat, wrapping her scarf around her neck in a flat second. "I—I'm sorry. It's—it's Dennis." That was all the explanation she gave.

Tara's stomach knotted up to the point of being unable to finish her meal. She gathered her things, throwing away Denise's barely touched salad and ducking out. The trip back to the station was a blur, and she could only recall Michonne thanking her. She hoped whatever happened to or with Dennis wasn't too awful. She kept replaying Denise's expression in her mind, and she knew it had to be. God, what the hell else was going to happen today? For fuck's sake, this week needed to be wiped off the face of the Earth.

Rosita emerged from her office, looking as though she'd just gotten the shock of her life, and she ensured her entire squad was there to hear the news.

"I just received a call from Lieutenant Callahan from the 22nd, and they just picked up a man who...may be our killer."

"What?" Tara shot out of her seat.

"How do they know it's him?" Sasha rested her hands on her hips. "We don't even know what he looks like, so how can they be sure? It could be some kook trying to play us."

"Well, he went abov _e_ and beyond, if that were the case," she remarked. "A park ranger was doing his usual patrol, and he noticed some fresh tracks and followed them. He found our guy hunched over in the woods. He...was leaning over a mound of dirt with Sophia's missing book and...the remains of Penny Blake."

Michonne dropped into her chair. "We found her?" Her voice was barely audible.

She nodded. "He was leaving the book like a headstone. The dirt was fresh, and—and they found her underneath. Callahan faxed a picture for confirmation, and we'll still have Phillip ID her, but I know it's her." She had her face committed to memory. She would know any of those girls if they were...still flesh.

Michonne nodded, unable to speak.

"I'll alert Phillip." Sasha grabbed the phone from her desk and dialed without a second thought.

"Good." Rosita pressed her hands together. "Grimes, Chambler, why don't you go pick our perp up?"

Many things happened in the next hour. Tara and Michonne drove over and collected the kidnapper/murderer, Sasha phoned Phillip Blake to let him know Penny's body had been recovered, and Rosita had Daryl and Carol brought in to see if they could recognize this man. Once their guy was handcuffed in the interview room A, Tara and Michonne looked in on him, neither having spoken to him or each other since before Rosita alerted to his arrest, and Sasha escorted Phillip to the morgue to identify Penny.

Sasha nodded to the coroner and her eyes fell on the small child. Only her face was visible, her brown hairs brushed to the side, her skin dead white, her lips blue, but it was sufficient. After all, a father who spent months waiting for his little girl to come through the front of their home would know her anywhere. So in her peripheral vision, she watched Phillip collapse at the glimpse of this small, empty body, and she balled her hands. She didn't need to ask if it was her or not.

"No, no, no, no," he wailed. "God, no!"

She knew it wouldn't mean anything, but she couldn't simply walk away and say nothing. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for your loss." She motioned for the coroner to cover the body. She cringed at the sound of his gut-wrenching sobs, and she reached down, setting a hand on his shoulder, hoping to give him the smallest shred of console. Hope. A truly cruel word here. He _hoped_ for her swift and uninjured return, as they all had. He _hoped_ for her to be alive. And eventually he _hoped_ for her body to be found, but still that little flame of hope that flickered for her to be alive... _Hope_ had just blown it out.


	15. Motivation

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

"Who is he?" Tara inquired to Rosita, having burned his face into her memory.

"Abraham Ford." Rosita handed Tara his file. "He used to be an army sergeant, and after he worked for _Swift_."

"A truck driver?" Michonne read over Tara's shoulder.

"He was let go five years ago," she added. "They said he didn't seem all there anymore."

"Are we supposed to feel sorry for this sack of shi—" Tara cut off when she read the cause of his sudden instability. "Oh, God." She squeezed her eyes shut.

In 2011, his oldest child, his daughter, committed suicide. She was sixteen years old.

"His wife is here with their son." Rosita instructed, "Speak to them first, and...be heedful. Ellen is already fragile, and I don't want to push this kid's only stable parent over the edge. Understood?"

"Understood," Michonne and Tara murmured.

Ellen Ford gripped a wad of tissues in her hand, her nose red, her eyes glistening with tears, and she shook her head, incapable of wrapping her mind about the reality of her husband being a serial killer. Of him being the reason behind those young girls' kidnappings and deaths. It couldn't be real, she told herself over and over. _It can't be real. It can't be._

A.J. bobbed his leg up and down to try and relieve the anxiety building up inside of him. Unlike his mother, he wasn't crying or upset or in denial. He was scanning for the detectives so he could ask his questions, get closure. He couldn't sit around here and wait. He just couldn't. He knew his dad was here, and he couldn't be here with...him. Not after what he did, no. He refused.

"Mrs. Ford?" Michonne slid a chair over to sit in while Tara took her chair. "I'm Detective Grimes, this is Detective Chambler."

"You've got the wrong man," Ellen cried. "It's not him! He wouldn't do this! He loves kids. He wouldn't hurt a fly!"

"Mom, please." A.J. set a hand on her arm to try and calm her. "I heard how they found him, and I know about the other girl. The one who's missing. Is she all right? Have you found her?"

"Not yet." Michonne crossed her legs and used them to hold the opened file. "May I ask about your daughter?"

Ellen shook her head vigorously, trembling like a leaf on the breeze, and A.J. shushed her, rubbing her arm. "D—Please, don't. Please." She shut her eyes tightly.

A.J. met the detective's eyes. "Ask me, please. It's too much for her."

Tara stepped in. "I'll take her, get her some tea, calm her down." She rose and led Ellen to the lounge.

"She's been...a mess since Becca," he confided to Michonne. "She doesn't eat, doesn't really sleep, and she's only been able to keep this job, because working—distracting—helps her cope."

"Sounds like you've been raising her."

"Since I was thirteen. I don't mind. I—I shut down too, right after. I—I couldn't get out of bed, couldn't keep food down, couldn't do anything. I just...kept going back to that night, and..." He shook his head, his leg bobbing faster. "I don't like to linger on it, so let's make this quick. What do you want to know about Becca?"

"Can you confirm this as her handwriting?" She held out one of the less depressing entries.

"Yeah." He accepted the plastic covered page. "I bought her this diary. It was a cheap Christmas gift, but those last couple of months, I saw her carrying it like a lifejacket." He flipped it over for her to see. "She loved the beach, so that's why there are shells. The cover is sky blue and glittery, with actual shells on it. It's kinda tacky, but she liked it. Or—or I think she did."

"You were close? You and Becca?"

"We fought like cats and dogs, but...near the end, she seem insistent on us spending time together. I thought it was a phase 'cause she suddenly pulled away." His eyes darkened. "I was relieved. Having your big sis around is lame, and she was such a nag. Just the worst, you know?"

"So, her suicide was a surprise?"

"That's putting it lightly, but yeah, it was." He set the page down on the desk adjacent to him, his leg still, and he ran a hand through his red curls. "It was ...one of those moments when...time stops. It was uh, the night of my football game, and we'd killed it. We'd destroyed the other team, and we'd gone out for pizza to celebrate. Becca stayed home, claiming to be ill, and Mom had left her soup, probably mentioned the strawberry ice cream in the freezer like always. Mom was cool like that. She'd buy a little tub of ice cream for us when we were sick, and Dad told her not to, but she still did it. Said it was "good for the throat".

"Anyway...I raced back to her room to tell her, all cocky and loud, and I just threw her door open, and..."

Michonne nodded him on.

"And she was in bed. It...was the weirdest thing." His eyes reflected the entire excruciating experience. "She was all tucked in, like she'd just gone to bed, you know?" Tears crawled out of his eyes, and his lips quivered. "So...I moved around the bed to turn the light on, to wake her up, and...in the light—in the light, I can see it. I—I can see her."

"A.J.?"

"She's all tucked in...but there's so much blood, and she's too—too white. Like dead white, white as snow, and—she won't wake up. I—I tried to wake her up, I called to my dad, but she wouldn't wake up." He shuddered. "A—and then I see the note...on her nightstand with the first sentence saying, _I'm sorry_..."

Michonne gulped. "You don't have to tell me anything further."

"I—I need a minute. Excuse me." He bolted to the bathroom.

Michonne shivered now and placed her chair back, blinking any tears out of her eyes. She could sit through a million sad movies and books, but she couldn't sit through interviews like that. She knew what it was like to have a child. She had three, and they were her world. It broke her heart when they broke a bone or strained a wrist or ankle. She couldn't imagine what it would do to her if one of her children not only were that far gone without her noticing, but ended their life. She would be inconsolable. There mere thought hollowed her to the core, and she couldn't still the quaking in her hands. For it be a reality...she would forever be warped and shattered by that. She couldn't blame Ellen for collapsing as she had.

She couldn't view Abraham in the same light. His actions sickened her, and she wanted nothing more than to grab him by his shirt and shake him until his brain rattled inside his skull. No matter how horrible life has treated you, you never try and make it better by killing someone else's child, and for what? So they'd know the same desolation as you? Have the same massive hole in their lives? What was the endgame here? Had he found it yet? Or was Sophia just one of many more he'd taken and done God only knew what with? Would he have stopped on his own? How could he justify this? His daughter was dead, so to cope he's gone out and taken away twenty-four girls? He was the worst kind of criminal. He knew the torment of losing a child, and he's forced that fate off on twenty-five families. Well, she couldn't do anything about the twenty-four who were already gone, but she would ensure the number would remain at twenty-four.

"Phillip's filling out the paperwork." Sasha lowered herself down into her chair.

"How'd he take it?"

"Complete meltdown." She tapped her pen on the desk. "This is why I'm never having kids."

"Never say never." She gave a knowing smirk.

"What was that?" Sasha narrowed her eyes. "Michonne, don't "mmm-hmm" and walk away. We agreed you only get four of those a month, and while you have one left, you can't use it today."

"And I won't." She strolled out of the room to get Tara from the lounge.

Sasha sucked on her teeth and shook her head. Of course.

"Chambler." Michonne motioned for her, giving an acknowledging nod to Mrs. Ford, and Tara closed the door behind her. "I've gotten the suicide out of A.J.."

"Yeah, it seems to have been the trigger for Abraham." She gestured behind her to Ellen. "She's one bad event from swallowing a handful of pills. Besides Abraham was in the military. God only knows how badly that fucked him up, and you add in his daughter's suicide, and it's a recipe for a disaster."

"Or a serial killer."

A.J. shuffled out of the bathroom to the lounge, Michonne and Tara spoke with Rosita, and Rosita wanted Michonne to speak with A.J. and Ellen. She didn't want any holes in this case, so they needed a blood sample to make sure this B and Becca Ford were one and the same. Rosita wanted Sasha and Tara to speak with Abraham while she watched from Observation. Rosita told Dawn to wait for Daryl and Carol and show them the mugshot of Abraham. They might have seen him prior to their daughter's kidnapping.

Sasha closed the door and ran her eyes over the illusive man seated there. She moved to the corner, Tara chose to sit, and she composed herself. They needed a location out of him, and it wouldn't do to have him clam up, so she'd keep herself in check. They both had parts to play, each familiar with tight-lipped perps, and they knew how to work them. They had to play this exactly right, or he'd shut them down.

Tara glided a photo of Sophia across the table over to Abraham. "Where is she?"

He didn't lift his head.

"Do you even know her name?" Tara tried again. "It's Sophia. Sophia Dixon."

"...need to get back..."

"What?" She hadn't made sense of that. "Care to repeat that for me?"

"...get back..." he muttered. "...can't miss..."

She pulled out the photos of Penny Blake and Amy Harrison. "How about them?" She watched his gaze raise, but he didn't speak. She slammed the photos of Lana Martinez and Eliza Morales down. "Do you recognize them?"

His eyes locked on the photo of Lana. "...she cried."

"What?" Tara shot a glance to Sasha. "Her?"

He nodded. "She cried for her daddy." He chuckled, but it was an empty, dry sound. "...for her daddy..."

"Did any of the others cry?" She added more and more photos of his victims. "Did she cry?" Tara held up the picture of the younger victims, Summer Bell. She was ten years old. "Did she cry out for her mom? Or her dad?"

He tilted his head and gazed at the picture of the small blonde girl. "...no. She was tough...didn't give up...for a while..."

Tara could barely understand the man. He kept trailing off in whispers, and she looked at Sasha to see if she got any of that, but she hadn't either. Tara would try to read his lips, but he hardly moved them. It was like conducting an interview with someone who was deaf and lacking a translator.

"...need...back..." His eyes widened. "...I just...need...back..."

A knock on the glass drew them from the room, Tara opted to leave the photos behind so he'd have to look at their faces, and Sasha wanted to just punch him square in the jaw. She wasn't one to reach for anger first, but the simple sight of him sitting there, fucking _murmuring_ while a little girl suffered somewhere vexed her. She was grateful Rosita had beckoned them from the room.

She shook her head. "He's not giving us anything."

"We need to get a reaction out of him," Sasha stated. "Snap him out of this state."

"Let me talk to him." A.J. had overheard them on his way to get his mom some water. "Let me talk to him. I can get...something out of him."

"No." Rosita folded her arms. "Just so sit with your mom. Leave this to us."

"Yeah, and it took you five years to catch him, and you only managed to get him because of dumb luck."

"You're not speaking to him," Rosita snapped. "Go be with your mother."

"Fine, but when you need me—and you will—you know where I am." He didn't want to speak to him, but he wanted the missing girl found.

Rosita rolled her eyes once he was out of sight. "Carol and Daryl are here, and they've never seen Abraham before. They're positive Sophia hasn't either."

"What about the books?" Tara spoke up. "We know he's taken at least two books from two girls' rooms. He was leaving it at Penny's like a headstone, so maybe it's his thing. To him, they could be like Becca's diary, where she wrote her most private thoughts."

"We can only speculate," Rosita told her. "But the book seems to be ritual."

"What do you mean?"

"I went through the items found on the bodies we located, and a book showed up with all of them. I don't know why he does it, but maybe it's tied to Becca, like you said. Maybe he reads the book to their bodies like he used to read to Becca when she was younger."

"It doesn't matter," Tara stated. "What matters is getting Abraham to crack so we can find Sophia. We don't know what the condition of her location is, if she has food or water. It's been two days. She'll die if we don't get to her."

Sasha partly wished the officer who found Abraham would have let him be, followed him back to wherever he was currently keeping Sophia and then called them. It would have simplified their task significantly. They would have brought Sophia home this morning, gotten fluids and food put in her system after days without. Instead they had to try and yank information out of Abraham who was too distracted with getting back to her. Or whatever he was saying in there. It was so drawn out and low. How in hell where they going to snap him out of this? Surely he was more stable in the hunt. Otherwise they would have found fingerprints and the like, so how did they get that Abraham? How?

"You're absolutely right. We need to get this girl back. With him here with us and his lack of a partner, Sophia's in even more danger." Rosita glanced over at the Fords then back to the detectives. "Do you think Ellen...could get to him? She _is_ his wife."

"No, no." Sasha shook her head in disagreement. "She is too unsteady. She doesn't even believe he had anything to do with this."

"She's only just calmed down too." Tara sided with Sasha. "This might set her off, and we might not get her back. Like you said, he needs one steady parent."

"Yes, but we have a missing child!" Rosita threw her hand up to the picture of Sophia on the board. "We have no leads on where she's being held! Our doer is uncooperative and off his rocker! We have nothing, and this little girl is dying! We cannot— _will not_ —lose another child to him, so unless you have a better idea, which I'd be ecstatic to hear right now, do not argue with me!"

"Yes, ma'am."

– – –

Rosita prepared Ellen to speak with her husband, Sasha didn't like the feeling nestling in her gut, Michonne watched Abraham from Observation, and Tara stepped outside for some air and to make a phone call. Lerner was at the Ford's home, checking in on CSU to see if they'd found anything. Perhaps the moss that was found in Sophia's room, or perhaps fibers or a hair, but unfortunately there were coming up empty. The house was spotless, all of Abraham's things neatly stacked in the dresser and against the door, all tucked in and on point. He was good. Perhaps _too_ good.

Tara shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand, the hum of the unanswered phone ringing in her ear, and her shoes crunched in snow as she paced. She was trying to get a hold of Denise to ask how Dennis was. It'd been a while since their lunch, but there was no answer. Her phone was still on, as it didn't send her straight to voicemail, so Denise was either out of the room or ignoring her calls.

Upon the second call when the ringing stopped short, it was clear Denise was ignoring her. She frowned and wondered what she'd did. She didn't have to pick up the phone, just shoot her a text and let her know the guy and she were all right. Apparently that was too much to ask for. Oh well, they had a case, and Denise wasn't a priority. Sophia was. She had to get her head on straight, so she remained outside for a few more minutes, trying to ease the mixture of apprehension and fear. She wasn't sure which was more dominate, but she was damn sure they were both present.

She knocked the snow off her shoes and jogged back inside. She made in time, seeing Ellen and Rosita enter the interrogation room, and she slipped inside Observation, finding Sasha and Michonne there. She shrugged off the nerves climbing up her back and peered in.

Rosita gave a nod to Ellen, nudging her to begin to speak.

"Abraham?"

He'd yet to look up when they had entered, but at the sound of her voice, he did raise his head. His still wore the same expression, his mouth shut, and his eyes were boring into her face.

"Where is she?" Ellen sat across from her husband, hands trembling in her lap, and she swallowed hard. "Where—where is the girl?" She felt relieved that he hasn't spoken, that maybe he wasn't the culprit. He couldn't be. He couldn't take a child from her parents, not like...

Her eyes fell to the table, to the multiple pictures of beautiful little girls smiling and happy and full of life laid out between them, and she saw an innocence to them. It reflected in their eyes, their eyes filled with joy and determination and passion. Even the little ones, the ones who couldn't be older then fourteen. They were so precious, some small for their age, and they were beautiful. They were simply beautiful and gone. They were gone from the world, just like her Becca. They would never return home, they would never graduate college or follow whatever dreams their hearts were set on. They were dead and buried in unmarked graves, rotting alone and cold like their parents who don't have closure. Their parents who will never hold or console their children again. Parents who failed to notice the changes...the distance...the isolation...the missing blade to the box cutter...

Rosita frowned when Ellen stopped speaking. "Ellen?"

She reached a shaky hand out to one of the pictures, Abraham observed her, and she looked over the small face of a dark-haired girl. She was adorable, round brown eyes, a toothy grin that showed she'd yet to get all of her adult teeth, and a few scrapes were visible. An active little girl, likely clumsy and rough. Like Becca had been...

"Did you do it?" Ellen's voice was low, a lethal edge to her question, and her eyes sliced to her husband's. "Did you...kill these girls?"

"You never noticed," he spoke coherently, and in a volume they could all pick up on. "You were her mother, but you didn't notice what was wrong. I had to work. I drove back and forth to provide for our family, and you were supposed to watch the kids, but you didn't. You failed to do the one— _the one_ —thing you were meant to do!"

"My—my job? My job?"

"Yes, your fucking job! To keep our kids safe! To make sure they were happy!"

"We were both her parents!" Ellen roared. "It was both of our jobs to ensure her happiness and stability! You can't pin this on me! It was both of us! We both failed her."

He shook his head. "No, it was you." Had he been around, he'd have seen it. He'd have seen it. He would have fucking seen it.

She snapped and slapped him. "You're the bastard that took these girls from their parents! How could you?!" She shoved the table out of the way, Rosita was stunned that a woman as small as Ellen Ford could do even that, and she lunged at him. "They're just kids! Like Becca! How could you do this?! How could you?!"

Rosita tried to pry the woman off her husband, but be it pent-up rage or adrenaline giving her a boast in strength, Rosita was unable to do it alone. "Ellen, stop!"

"You bastard! You goddamned bastard!"

Michonne and Tara burst into the room and aided Rosita, Ellen spat and screamed obscenities at her husband, trying to claw her way back to him to strangle him, and Sasha and Lerner had to help drag her out of the room. She didn't settle down, so Lerner and Sasha hauled her down to lockup to settle herself, and A.J. stood staring at the sight. Rosita didn't speak to Tara and Michonne, simply hurried after Lerner and Williams-Stookey to speak with Ellen, and Michonne shook her head.

"I knew it was a bad idea."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures."

Tara looked over at A.J.. "Yeah, they do." She touched Michonne's arm. "Cover for me."

"Why?"

"Just trust me."

"All right."

––

"What the hell was that, Ellen?" Rosita spoke to the woman through the bars that separated them. "You said you could handle, and you do this? Do you have any idea how far this sets us back?"

She snuffled. "I thought I could handle it. I was wrong."

"You were wrong? Clearly!" She huffed. "We need to find Sophia, and you just attacked him! I know this must be unbearable, but we all have to consider the big picture. Now who knows if we can get him to even talk to us!"

"I'm sorry." She exhaled and gripped her knees. "Like I said...I thought I could handle it. I thought I could sit there and...get answers out of him. I thought—I thought I could help this family in a way I couldn't help my own, but just...sitting there across from him, knowing what he'd done..." She shook her head. "We lost our daughter, and he goes out and does the same to other families? He went through it, but he made other families go through it too? Without—without closure? Without hope? I couldn't sit there and not demand to know why.

"Why did he do this? Why did he take those girls? Why the hell he...he..." She wiped her nose on a tissue. "Why didn't I see it? Why didn't I know the man I married had become twisted and—and dark? Why the hell didn't I see it?"

Rosita sighed. "I can't answer that question for you. I have a child to find, and I'm sorry about this. I should have known this wasn't a good plan. Just calm down, and...I'll deal with this." She smiled a little. "Just calm down, okay? I'll—I'll get it sorted."

"Check on my son, please."

"I will." She turned on her heel and headed back toward her floor, running her hands through her hair. Son of a bitch! They might not even be at square two anymore. They might be in the fucking negatives right now. She had no idea what they were going to do now. Fuck! They could have gotten it all from him through Ellen had she not...been human.

She covered her eyes with her hand and took her own advice to calm down. She wouldn't get through this if she kept going on like this. And more importantly, Sophia wouldn't get through this if she kept going on like this. So, plan B. Or was it Q? Who the fuck knew at this point. Call it plan S. They had a child to save, and they were going to save her. A new angle would come. She was sure of it.

––

Tara pulled A.J. aside and spoke to him briefly, knowing Michonne was watching them, and that Rosita could walk in at any second, but Rosita had a point they agreed on. Sophia needed to be found. The clock was ticking, and if they pushed too far, he'd shut down, and that little girl dead alone somewhere, starving and crying for her parents. They would find her. They would find her alive and bring her back home. Daryl and Carol would see their daughter again.

Tara silently made this promise to herself, vowing to return Sophia to Carol. She had been a child without a mother, and she seemed to miss so much. She heard tale after tale about her mother from Lilly, but it wasn't enough. She missed out on something. She didn't know if it was great or poor, but she had missed out. She would not allow that to happen to Sophia. Or Carol. She refused to let Carol be a mother without her daughter. She refused to let her miss out all the things a mother should do with her daughter. Not when there were options, not when they had a chance.

And as for Daryl...well, she was an adult without a father. She still looked to him for help, even though he wasn't there. She would do so many things, and he wouldn't be there to neither praise nor scold her. He wouldn't be there to silently stand by her choices. He wouldn't be there to see her marry one day. He wouldn't be there to support her career or aid her through however many difficult periods her life would offer. He just wasn't there, and she didn't know Daryl from Adam. She didn't know a single thing about him, but he didn't deserve to lose his child. He didn't deserve to walk by her room, remember all the good and bad times and die a little more inside, because there was nothing he could do. It was out of his hands, and the world...simply kept spinning. She could barely cope with the loss of her father, but to have it be her own child... She could imagine, because Meghan was like her kid too. She loved her so much, and if Sophia were Meghan, Tara would be at Abraham's throat as well. Fuck the table, fuck Rosita—she would have beaten the life out of him and still demanded to know _why_.

So, desperate times called for desperate measures. Her eyes swept across the room to the door where Abraham Ford sat, and she returned her gaze to his son. She couldn't understand the weigh on his shoulders. A man who raised and loved him all his life had taken twenty-four young girls out of the world. A man he loved and respected and trusted had done the unthinkable. She didn't know where that left A.J.. She didn't know what his emotions were, or where he was mentally, but he was Abraham's son. Blood of his blood, flesh of his flesh, and he could get through to him. Those eyes were the same as Becca's, and with a little luck, Abraham might come undone under the scrutiny of A.J's eyes. After all, he'd become the monster that he was today because of his child, so perhaps his other child could...bring back the man he used to be. At least long enough to get a location out of him.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Tara searched his eyes. "I don't want to force you into anything."

"No, I want to." He moistened his lips and nodded. "I don't want that family to know what it's like to...have someone you love so much...be dead, so yeah. Yeah, let me in there. I can do this."

"You just say the word, and I'll pull you out, all right?" She squeezed his shoulder. "In a flat second, all right, kid? I'll be right behind the glass."

He dried his palms on the hem of his shirt and nodded again. "Yeah, okay."

Tara closed the door to the interview room behind A.J, glancing at Michonne who lifted her chin, and she slipped into Observation. She crossed her arms and planted her feet, looking in on Abraham, the door slowly opening. She didn't care if this cost her everything, not if it got them Sophia's location. She was all that mattered. Well, they all mattered, every one of his victims, but she was the only one they could save. Perhaps, with some bargaining, they might be able to get the whereabouts of the other girls, allow their families to get closure and to put their bodies to rest. Or maybe he had a list wherever he was holding Sophia. Maybe, if they were lucky.

A.J entered the room, the door clicking shut behind him, and his throat ran dry, his heart racing underneath his shirt. He carried himself over to the chair and dropped, his legs almost numb, and he rested his hands in his lap. He couldn't meet his father's eyes, couldn't stomach the man in front of him, yet he knew he had to. He had to face the monster and get that little girl home. He had to do it for her, and for Becca. He wouldn't let her down like they had with Becca. He wouldn't leave her alone in the dark somewhere. He knew even if the room was overflowing with light, it was dark. It wasn't the room, it was the mindset, and he'd been there himself. He didn't want that girl—Sophia—to linger there. Becca had more than lingered there, and he failed her. He wouldn't fail Sophia, so he had to face the monster in front of him. He had to...face his father.

He raised his eyes from his lap to the man across from him. His heart pounded away, his palms moistening, and his eyes began to burn. It wasn't entirely from sorrow. It was from rage too. Rage that shook him from the inside out, rage that burned so brightly and so quickly that he feared he might have more in common with the man in front of him than he'd care to admit. He swallowed hard to clear his throat, and he parted his lips to speak, but Abraham interrupted him.

"What are you doing here?" He wasn't looking directly at the boy—his boy.

"We... The detectives need to know where that little girl is," was all he could croak out.

"You shouldn't be here." He jerked his head to the side to stare at the wall. "Go home."

A.J scoffed. "G—go home? Home? Is that what you're gonna call it?" Tears brimmed behind those dark blue eyes, and his shoulders trembled. "It's not home. It has _never_ been home!"

"Get out," Abe repeated. "You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be here."

"What do you mean, here? Alive here? Or here here? Like right in front of you in some musty interrogation room?!" His voice broke, his face reddened, and tears fall from his eyes. "What the hell do you mean, Dad? Huh? Do you wish I was dead, or not in front of you while you're being interrogated for the murder of twenty-four young girls?!" His voice was hoarse and dry, straining against his throat, and he shivered involuntarily.

"You know what I mean!"

"No. No, I don't think I do!" He tried to meet his father's gaze, but it was locked on the space to the left of him, and he slammed his hand down on the table so roughly pain shot through what felt like his bones. "Look at me! Don't ignore me! Look at me!"

He didn't.

A.J collected the pictures that remained on the table in between them, his hands shaking as he did so. He inhaled deeply, a tear splashing on the face of Lana Martinez, and he ran his eyes over the faces, searing them into his mind. He snapped his eyes to his father who had dared to peek at him, and he threw the pictures at his face. "Look at them!" He shoved one picture right against his face, leaning over the table, one hand supporting his weight. "Look at her!"

Tara wanted to pull him out of there, but he hadn't said the word, and he wasn't hurting Abraham, not really. If it continued, she'd intervene, but until then she'd stay here.

A.J let the photo fall along with his hand. "How could you do to their families what Becca did to us? How could you do it?" He scanned what he could see of his father's face. "How could you take them away like Becca took herself away? How could you? How—how could you?"

"I had to," Abe murmured. "I had to see...with my own eyes."

"See? See what, Dad?" He gestured to the few pictures that had landed back on the table. "What the hell was there to see? Scared little girls? You kidnapped them from their homes! From there beds where they should...should be safe, and—and you let them die. You let them die! You took them from their homes and let them die, knowing that's what Becca did to us! But it's worse, because they noticed! They noticed their daughters and—and sisters were missing, were taken, but—but not us. We didn't notice a damn thing."

A.J slumped back into his chair, dragging a hand through his hair, tears streaking down his cheeks, and he was on the edge of breaking down. "But it's worse than Becca, because she chose. She chose to end it all, to say... to leave us, but not these girls..." He buried his face in his palms and released a cry, tugging his hands down his cheeks to land on the table. "Becca wanted to die...at least in that moment, and she made a choice to leave us, but not these girls, Dad. There was nothing to see! You just kidnapped them and let them die! You killed them, Dad... You! It was you."

Abraham finally met A.J's eyes, the big tears that pooled there and rolled down his cheeks, the redness spreading across his face, and for a second he saw Becca. Big eyes full of tears on the ground with her bike beside her, her palm scratched from a fall. His heart broke, and he shuddered and gasped. "Becca."

A.J looked at his father. "She's dead, Dad. She's been dead for five years." He watched his dad begin to crumble, and he dropped his hands to his lap again. "But Sophia's not, Dad. She's not dead, and we need to find her, okay? There's nothing to see—nothing—and even if there was something, you missed it, okay? Just—just tell us where she is. Please, please tell us. Don't let another family lose...their daughter, Dad. Be the man I used to respect again, please tell us. Just tell us where she is, so they can get her. Don't let her die. Don't force her to...to join Becca, please."

Abraham nodded and began to unveil the exact place where he was holding Sophia.

– – –

Rosita halted at the sight of A.J exiting the interview room, wiping at his eyes, and she turned to Sasha. She was rapidly brought up to the speed, Tara had already flown the coop with Michonne to get the girl, and Sasha had sent backup and an ambulance after them, just in case Abraham hadn't been working alone. She was sure he had, but better safe than sorry. Besides the girl would need to looked over.

Tara and Michonne ran down the street, carefully weaving through people who passed by, not knowing a missing child lie behind the door of the abandoned home. The sun had began its descent, though the streetlights provided enough light for them to spot the little metal numbers. They didn't bother to knock or wait for someone to find a key. They busted down the door, Tara padded down the stairs to the basement, scanning the room and finding the red wood door he'd mentioned.

"Michonne!" She tried the knob, but it wouldn't budge. "Sophia? Sophia, can you hear me?"

Michonne hurried over and tried the knob, feeling it was locked. She cursed and searched the basement for something to bust the doorknob off with. She could use the butt of her gun of she had to.

"Sophia?" Tara pounded on the door, but there was no response. "Sophia?"

" _Becca. Hey, Becca, guess what?" A.J trampled into her room. "Dude, you're in bed already? Seriously? Wake up, Grandma." He walked around her bed and flicked on the lamp. "Becca...?"_

"Sophia, can you hear me? Sophia, honey, it's the NYPD! Hold on, okay?" Tara turned to Michonne who had found a cinder block. They were lined against the wall, likely used to build the room Sophia was being held in. "Be careful. Watch your fingers."

" _Becca?" A.J's eyes widened at the burgundy stain on her white floral blanket. "Oh, my God... Dad! Becca! BECCA!"_

Michonne repeatedly slammed the cinder block over the knob, it fall off and rolled away from them, and Tara pushed the door open, nearly tripping inside, and blinked at the interior of the room. It was like their interrogation room, only more than half of the wall was glass, and you could see in the other room. With the lights off, it was impossible to see in the room.

" _Becca!" He shook her limp body, the knee of his jeans wet with blood that had soaked through, and he stared at his pale sister. His eyes drifted over and saw the note for the first time, and it dawned on him what had happened. "...Becca..."_

"Sophia?" Tara knocked on the glass, not seeing any way through. "Sophia?" She could hear Michonne fumbling around for a light switch, and she knew this glass was thick. Likely bulletproof, shatterproof. They had to break in somehow. There was no other way to get her out of the room, unless...unless they broke through the wall. That was it! They had to break down the wall. What little of it there was, but it was the only way. "Hold on, kid."

 _Abraham and Ellen stopped laughing at the sound of AJ's second scream. They assumed the first was Becca hitting him for waking her or just barreling into her room, but this second scream was filled with terror. They bolted to their daughter's room, Abraham was the first to reach them, and when Ellen did, she screamed._

Michonne found the light switch, Tara gasped at the sight of the room Sophia was being held in, and Michonne joined her, peering in. There was a toilet, a sink and bloody hand prints on the walls. It was dried and starting to turn brown—old blood. On the cot, all coiled up in a blue blanket lied their girl: Sophia Dixon.

 _Becca lied there, still and white as a sheet, her blanket soaked. It was soaked with her blood, pooling beside the bed on the floor. Abraham instantly sprung into action. He pushed A.J toward his wife and yanked the blanket back to find where she was bleeding from. He nearly collapsed at the sight of her, all curled up, one wrist sliced open and the other partly opened, because she'd been too week from the massive blood loss. She'd...hit a vein._

"We need a sledgehammer." Michonne recognized the glass and arrived at the same conclusion as Tara. "To knock that wall out. There has to be one around here, for when he moves the bodies once the girls die. C'mon!"

 _Ellen was calling to him, holding A.J in her arms, asking what she should do, what should she do. She kept repeating it through her tears and cries, but he could only hear it as a gentle whistle in his ear. He looked over his little girl, her sheet and blanket saturated in her blood, and his eyes fell on a box cutter. The blade was crusted in her blood, but it was shiny where the blood wasn't, meaning it was new. That blade could cut through her skin like a dull knife through melted butter._

Michonne found the tools he'd used to build the room, the cement mixture and other cinder blocks and such. She rummaged through it, trying to find the sledgehammer, hoping it was nearby, and she suggested Tara to check upstairs. He might have kept it in a spare bedroom or the living room. Somewhere it was out of sight, somewhere he'd have to make an effort to get it, so he didn't cave and break her out sooner. If he had any moments of weakness, that was. The mother in her hoped he had, but the cop in her doubted.

 _I'm sorry. I couldn't be strong for you guys. I tried. I tried so hard for so long, but I couldn't anymore. I couldn't look at myself in the mirror without hating myself for what I was doing to myself. I couldn't talk to you guys, because...it was my fault. I did this to myself, and I tried to fix it. I tried to fix me, but I couldn't. I couldn't, and I'm sorry. I tried, even thought about getting outside help, but I knew how disappointed and scared you'd be if you saw how bad it'd gotten. I knew you'd feel guilty and blame yourselves, and I couldn't take it. I couldn't take the guilt I'd feel, and I couldn't take the looks you'd give me. And I know I couldn't handle the watchful eye you'd have me under once the truth was out. Nor could I withstand living like this for the rest of my life. Sure, there are pills and people I can talk to, but it'd still be here in my mind and in my heart, and I'm not that strong. I am so sorry._

"I found it!"

Michonne spun around as Tara bolted down the stairs, the sirens wailing outside grew louder, but the detectives couldn't wait. Michonne, the physically stronger of the two, gripped the shaft of the sledgehammer, commanding Tara to step back, and she inhaled deeply before slamming it into the wall. Tara kept an eye on Sophia as Michonne pounded on the wall to break through it. They were so close. Just a bit more. Just a bit more!

 _Don't blame yourselves. Don't hate each other. Please, don't. I love you all so much, and I don't want that. I was the weak one, and I'm sorry. Don't let my...weakness pull you apart. Please, I love you guys, and I need you to be okay. I know it's selfish to ask that, but please. Love each other, be happy again, and don't ever forget the good times. I love you guys. B._

"We're through!" Michonne knocked out the last bit of the wall and stepped inside the door. "Sophia!"

"Sophia?" Tara was on her heels, and she leaned over the bed, gently shaking the young girl. "Sophia?"

"...home," she feebly rasped. "Please...let me go home..."

"We're here to take you home." Tara smiled around the tears in her eyes. "We're here."

"Come on, sweetheart." Michonne lifted her out of the bed, and Tara assisted her, not knowing how much strength she had after knocking down a wall. "Let's get you back to your parents."

They worked together to get Sophia out of the house, Sophia was far too weak to move on her own, but she was alive. They hoped with food and water she'd return to her...self. They would leave it to the paramedics. They were just cops, but they'd know what to do, how to treat her, and they were right outside. Them, and her parents.

"Sophia!" Carol squeezed her husband's hand tightly at the sight of Sophia between Detective Chambler and Grimes. "Sophia."

"Mom?" She lifted her head and began to sob happily. "Mom!"

Daryl and Carol had closed most of the distance, but Sophia had the strength to throw her arms around them. They stumbled from the force of their embrace, Carol kissed her messy hair and held her so close, and Daryl was trying to look her over and hug her at the same time.

"You okay?" Daryl asked against her temple, holding her against him.

"Daddy." She didn't answer his question, only sobbed more.

"Shh, it's all right. I'm here." He kissed her forehead. "We're here."

"It's okay now, baby," Carol promised. "It'll be okay."

Tara didn't bother hiding the tears in her eyes, seeing as Michonne had some in hers, and Michonne reached over and pulled Tara closer. Tara laughed, resting her head on her shoulder, feeling Michonne affectionately patting her cheek, probably feeling the affect of the sledgehammer. She would ask on her muscles later. Right now, she wanted to bask in this reunion and the warmth filling her heart. It was endings like this that made the job worth it.

Once Sophia had been looked over by the EMT, Daryl thanked the detectives with an appreciative handshake. Carol joined him with Sophia, and they were both given a warm, tight hug. Sophia thanked them through her tears and tackled them in an embrace, laughing and crying and trying not to snot all over the detectives who saved her life.

– – –

Rosita stood in Observation, having gotten confirmation that Sophia was alive and well. She had one last question. The question they had been dying to know the answer to. They had asked, but he didn't supply the answer. However now that Sophia had been recovered and he had written his confession, listing where the other victims were buried as well, she hoped he would answer it.

"Why did you do it?" Rosita inquired. "You knew the agony of losing a child, so why did make twenty-four families feel that too?"

"Why?"

"Yes, why."

"I had to see it," he answered. "I had to see with my own eyes...why that option was the only one Becca chose. I had to know what made her stop hoping it'd get better. She stopped looking for a way out, and she let... She decided to...end it."

Rosita stared.

"When all hope's gone, when there's seemingly no way out...what makes that option become a reality? A viable choice? I had to see the acceptance of utter defeat." He scooted a photo of Sophia closer to him. "Kids are supposed to be innocent, full of hope and joy and light... It had to be kids, taken from their cushy homes and happy lives, thrown into chaos and darkness like my Becca was, and I watched. I watched time and again as these girls...pulled into themselves, stopped pleading for me to let them go, stop begging for their lives, stopped...fighting. They broke, curled up on their beds and died."

Rosita clenched her jaw to keep the tears and nausea back.

"And to be honest," he continued, "I still don't understand why...how they could just...stop. I've seen a lot, Espinosa. I've seen so much death in my life, but...these girls...my girl... It's an entirely different ballpark."

"And the books?" she managed.

"They...were just to mark their graves." He shifted. "Becca loved to read, and...every girl seemed to have a book nearby. It just made sense."

Rosita was grateful when Lerner came to take him. She excused herself to the bathroom in case she'd actually be sick, but nothing came out. She hovered there over the toilet, her necklace dangling over the clear water, and she watched the water ripple. She sank down onto the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks, and she cried. She cried for those lost. She cried for those saved. She cried for at long last putting this case to bed. She cried herself dry and then cried some more.

– – –

"Yeah, yeah, she's good." Tara couldn't help but smile as she signed her report. "She's at home tonight. They checked over, and she's fine. She was dehydrated, starving, but all right." Apparently Abraham only turned the water on when he was there, which wasn't often or for long, but as they'd had him in custody, he couldn't very well turn the water on for her. Thankfully, she would never have to wait for him to turn the water on or feed her ever again. She was at home with her parents, snug as a bug in rug.

" _That's great._ " Lilly set her hand over her heart. " _I am so relieved._ "

"Me too." She leaned back in her chair. "Everyone's gone out to celebrate, and I might join them. I do have an apartment to unpack and break in, but I need this."

" _Yes, you do. Go out and get plastered. Have a good time._ " Then came the big sister part. " _If you need a ride home, call me. I don't want you driving drunk._ "

"I won't." She rolled her eyes, knowing Lilly couldn't see her. "And I'll try."

" _Have a drink for me_."

"I don't do appletinis, Lilly."

" _Don't make me come down there and hit you._ "

She laughed. "Okay, I'll suffer through one for you."

" _I don't drink them, and you know it_."

"Sure, you don't." She hummed. "I gotta run, but I'll see you tomorrow for lunch. I'll try and bring chips or something."

" _Good. I love you, Tara. Be careful on your way home._ "

"I will be, _Mom_."

" _Good night._ "

"Bye." She hung up and dialed Denise's number to let her know they'd caught their man. She gathered her things as it rang, frowning when it'd rang three times and she'd yet to answer. She wondered if perhaps Denise was still avoiding her when she tried again, and it was sent directly to voicemail.

"Hey, it's me, Tara. I just wanted to let you know we got our guy. We rescued Sophia. She's great, alive and healthy. Uh, call me back when you get this, and I'll tell you the whole story. It involves a kid, a fight and Michonne's abs. It's one hell of a story, so...call me back, okay?"

She lowered the phone and headed out, hoping she hadn't done something to offend Denise. She could be preoccupied, but a gnawing feeling told Tara it wasn't just that. It was the detective in her. Something was going on with Denise, and it didn't completely involve Dennis. Hopefully it wasn't too serious. Tara cared for Denise, and she didn't want her to be in trouble alone. If she didn't start returning her phone calls, Tara was going to have to drop by her work or home to make sure she was still among the living. She didn't want to stalk her, merely apologize for what she might have done to upset her and see if she and her brother were all right. She was really starting to get worried. Denise wasn't the type of person to ignore people, or hold a grudge when the last time they spoke, Denise was the one who bailed. So, what the hell was happening with her?

Tara rubbed the back of her neck. It'd been a long day that felt like a year, and she might be blowing this out of portion. Maybe Dennis had her phone, or she couldn't explain it all right now. It didn't matter as long as Denise was all right. She'd stop by her office tomorrow, ask about Dennis, see if she'd offended her and figure it out from there. Until then she had drinks and conversation to catch up on. It'd been too long since the gang had gone out drinking together. Man, she hoped Rick didn't show. She might have to drink him under the table and embarrass him in front of his wife. Again. Although if it was anything like last time, she definitely had to do it again.


	16. When Sparks Fly

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

Rosita met with the Morales' in the morgue to show them the paperwork. She had sensed the tension between former husband and wife, their son waiting upstairs with his aunt. She was glad they'd decided to leave him out of this. She didn't want to explain it to them with him here, or see the pain that came rushing back. There was no body to show, not one they could have identified anyhow. Dental records provided that she was Eliza, but Rosita wanted to be here. If it had been her child, she would want someone else to be here.

The paperwork was self-explanatory, but she lingered nearby. She could see Ms. Morales trying to keep tears out of her eyes, her ex-husband reached over and held her hand, and she squeezed it back. Assuming your child was dead in some ways was easier than knowing. She suspected it was the hope that maybe—just maybe—you were wrong. Your little angel hadn't passed on, and by some stroke of fate or a miracle of God, you'd see them again. You'd be at work and get the call, and you'd dash out to see them, to hold them in yours arms and tell how them much you love them. All the pain from their absence would simply vanish, and you'd thank God for this miracle. You wouldn't know how to stop thanking God, or you'd thank the detectives who'd found your child, or you'd just be unable to stop feeling so thankful. All of the suffering you'd endured was for nothing, and you could start over.

However that wasn't the case here. They had confirmation that their little girl was dead, and she was abandoned in a grave with copy of a book so worn by weather it was unreadable. They had been right, but suspecting their daughter's passing didn't make swallowing the truth of her murder effortless. It was choking them, pushing them down, down, _down_ , and there was no light there. It was stark there, cold, and a deafening silence rung out and clung to them along with that truth. There was guilt there, for not having hope, for not believing she'd return to them till the end. There was bitterness there, for having small hope in the beginning, for praying endlessly that she'd come back only for this to occur. There was rage and hatred and confusion. But most of all what you found there among the silence and the cold and the stark reality was torment and disorientation. Some found their way out while others...adjusted to it. She'd yet to work out which they path they'd walk.

––

"Caesar." Rosita smiled a small smile at him. "Like I said over the phone, it's just paperwork. We have confirmed it's Lana through dental records. And this." She held out the necklace Lana had been wearing when they found her. It was in the missing persons picture they had of her too. A cherished item, without a doubt.

Caesar watched as the gold chain pooled into his hand, the heart-shaped garnet gem dazzling under the florescent lights, and the rough engravement on the back of the gold heart the garnet stone rested on. It was from the Bible, from John: _love one another, as I have loved you._ His mother had given it to Lana when she was four years old. She'd worn it every single day and night since.

"You found her?" His voice broke, tears instantly swarming his eyes, and he smiled, those tears streaming down his face now. "You—you found her?"

She nodded, blinking hard to keep from crying with him. "Yes."

"I—I can put my little girl to rest." He clutched the necklace. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"I'm just sorry it took us so long."

He slumped against the wall, falling to the ground, and he held the necklace to his heart. He could finally put his little girl to rest. He could bury her body and let her spirit rest. She wasn't alone, wandering anymore. She was home now. He had made peace with her death a long time ago, because he knew God had a plan. He knew no matter how it ached, there was a reason for this, and he would eventually understand it in time. It wasn't a comfort to know this in the beginning. He simply wanted his daughter back, but after the first week became a month then became four then became a year, he realized he likely wouldn't see her again. He was so angry, so reckless, and he nearly got himself killed, nearly lost his business, but his mother pulled him out of it. God pulled him out of it, and he was able to make peace. It was a rough road, and he still walked it, but the sharp corners lost their edge, and the ache was an old comrade.

Rosita lowered herself down onto her knees beside him and rubbed his shoulder, not saying a word. She expected this reaction from him. She'd seen him through the grieving process. Once another little girl had been taken, he knew, and sadly so did she, but they kept looking. She would have given anything to return every single one of those girls home alive, but that wasn't in her power. She could only bring justice to their killers, and Abraham would never see the light of day as a free man ever again. That was a promise.

––

"All right." Spencer dried his hands and walked to the living room to fetch his son for bed. "It's time for bed."

Alejándro's face fell, and he hunched over the arm of the couch toward his father. "But Mommy's not home yet."

"I know, but it's late. And you have school, so don't fight with me."

He puffed up his cheeks then sighed and glared slightly at him, Spencer started to get on him to drop the attitude, but the front door opened. Rosita dropped her purse to the floor and yanked Alejándro off the couch and into her arms, embracing him like she hadn't seen him in years. Spencer blinked, for a moment he wasn't sure this was real at how quickly she'd dove in, but she turned to him and hugged him too. He was certain now it was a dream. Or she'd had a long day at work. Or she was drunk, but he didn't smell booze, so it was the previous one.

"Sorry I'm late." She let Spencer go and kissed Alejándro's forehead. "Could I put him down for the night?"

"Y—yeah, I have pack our lunches for tomorrow anyway." Doing it in the morning was always a bad idea. He could whip up Alejándro's in two seconds, but his and Rosita's? He had to spend half the morning chasing Alejándro around the apartment to get him to dress, and Rosita was in her room until she absolutely had to skirt out for work. "Good night, buddy." He kissed the side of his head. "He's already brushed his teeth, and you can see he's in his pj's."

Rosita carried him to his room, still in her coat, and she curled up with him on the bed to read him to sleep. Spencer pulled down the plastic containers he used for his lunch and an extra set for Rosita. He'd noticed she left for work without lunch, and she worked herself to death—and through dinner—when she came home. He figured her friends probably bought her lunch, but just in case they were too busy to pick something up, or if she wanted something healthy, he'd give her this. She couldn't survive off junk forever.

Spencer set the containers in the fridge about ten minutes later, Rosita closed the door to Alejándro's room, and she joined him. She smiled and shrugged out of her coat, setting it on the hook that his mother had her aprons hanging up. Neither one of the two used them, so they were Deanna's to use when she came over now and then.

"You caught him." Spencer returned her smile. "That's great."

"We brought Sophia home, and I just spent the last couple hours helping some of the families who daughters we've positively ID'd fill out the paperwork." They put all of their men into finding the bodies, save for her detectives who were given the rest of the night off to get some sleep, to relax. Abraham didn't use more than one grave per girl, but luckily he dumped groups of them in the same area. They called in a forensic anthropologist work with their coroner, and they still have a few more girls to identify, but most of the families knew. She'd call the others in tomorrow. She was happy to do it, to give them closure and to put these girls to rest finally.

"You'll be back at it bright and early tomorrow then?"

"Yes, but for tonight, I just want to...relax for a bit."

"I packed a lunch for you." He motioned to the fridge as she drew closer. "If I'm not up, take it with you. There's two, but it's the same in both, so..." He trailed off when she stopped in front of him, those chocolate orbs searching his, and he knew she didn't hear a word he'd said, although what else he knew from that look made him not care.

She slipped loose hair behind her ear and peered at him through her lashes. "You mentioned that you weren't seeing anybody."

He chuckled, grasping her soft curves. "No."

"Well, this may come as a surprise, but neither am I." Her eyes lightened, twinkling at him, and his chest ached as he fell into them. She leaned up and pressed her lips to his with this feather-light touch, more testing than teasing, and she moaned when he pulled her right up against him, deepening the kiss. Her eyes closed as he pressed her against the counter, her arms curling around his shoulders and slipping her fingers through his soft curls, bringing his face closer. She brushed her tongue along his bottom lip, an unspoken question, and he opened his mouth for her.

He'd known since they met in that dingy library during her first day at the police academy, he wanted her in his life. They were friends at first, and somewhere along the line, somewhere among the late nights studying and late night dinners and the many, many conversations, they became more. He had been thrilled to just be around her. She was and still is this force of nature; fiery, unstoppable nature—that she passed on their son—and he knew no matter what came next, he would stand by her, even at the risk of being consumed by her single-minded determination. And despite knowing how it would end—how it always ended—he was there for her in this way every time. He could pretend for a time things weren't so broken, weren't crumbling more with every fight. This patch of her living with him would only hurt him more, but for the sake of their son and moments like these now and then where they let the lines "harmlessly" blur, he'd make it work. It wasn't as if he didn't enjoy this, although the emptiness of knowing it meant nothing to her that followed sucked some of the joy out of it.

Rosita's back slammed against the wall in his bedroom, and she spread her hands over his chest when he neared. "Easy. Do you want to wake Alejándro up?"

"He had his bath, was up early, and he'll be out all night," Spencer reasoned, sealing her mouth with his, working her out of her slacks. He slid the waistband over her hips, bending down to pull them off, trailing kisses upward starting from her hip and gathering the rumpled material of her shirt on his way.

"All night, huh?" She closed her eyes as his tongue brushed by her naval. "Heh, I can work with that." She lifted her arms and he removed her shirt, brushing hair out of her eyes and pulling him in for another kiss.

––

"Well, well, well, Michonne Grimes _can_ actually let her hair down." Tara smirked, joining her and Sasha and Dawn. "I'm not dreaming, right?"

"I can always throw this on you and found out." Michonne pointed to Lerner's massive margarita.

"Don't even think about it." Dawn looked at the margarita like it was the sexist thing in the world.

Tara laughed and ordered a beer.

"How's Captain?" Sasha swirled the wine in its glass. She'd been working on for the past hour. She wasn't a big drinker, but she did want to celebrate with them. This was a win, and drinking with them kept her from going home and talking about the case. Bob would want to know, and she simply wanted to savor the good mood they all shared, not relive the case.

"She said she'd be out after she spoke with Martinez." She smiled a thanks for the beer. "She'll probably go home and tackle her kid, so I'm not worried."

"I'm gonna do the same." Michonne was edging out of seat, and they all glared. "It's late, and they'll be in bed if I don't leave now. I had a drink and talked and let my hair down." She smirked at Tara. "But I need to hug my kids. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I wasn't here for any of that," Tara reminded her.

"I'll make it up to you on the next birthday." She waved over her shoulder.

"I miss all the fun." Tara drank from her bottle.

"Remind me never to have kids." Dawn popped the lime from the rim of her margarita into her mouth.

"Amen to that." Sasha tipped back her wine.

"I dunno." Tara got comfortable in the booth.

"You want kids?" Sasha's brows shot up. "Seriously?"

"Well, I didn't always, but...yeah, I think one day. If I find the right woman and we're ready to take that step, then yeah." She smiled fondly. "I'll be worried out of my mind, but...just the way Daryl and Carol were with Sophia, all those pictures and memories and how much they loved her... I want that one day."

"You'd be a terrible mom," Dawn joked with her. "All sarcasm and cop. Can you imagine this kid going to her with a problem?"

"That's what my wife's for," Tara mused, winking at her.

"I am not gonna be Aunt Sasha." She wagged a finger at her. "If it's a baby, I will not be there to change diapers and feed the kid."

"Sure, you won't." The words dripped with sarcasm.

"I won't." Sasha glared, but the trio knew Tara was right. "Don't smile at me, Chambler."

Tara chuckled at the forced scowl on Sasha's face. "Fine, fine. I'll just call my sister or Michonne. Or Captain."

"Good."

Tara couldn't stop laughing, and she buried her face in the sleeve on the table, and it became infectious, causing Dawn to nearly snort out her drink, and Sasha bellowed out laughter at the sight. Soon they were gripping their stomachs and filling the bar with their chuckles. With tears springing up in her eyes, Tara thought she'd be sick from the laughter and inability to breathe.

– – –

"Sasha's brother's friend's gonna give me a discount on a new bed." Tara grunted, lifting her end the couch, and Lilly pushed forward. "Which I need."

"Yeah, you do." Lilly set the couch down in the spot Tara wanted it in. "It's been how many years since you bought a new bed?"

"I sleep on the couch most of the time," she lied, tossing the throw pillows onto it. "And you are the worst at knowing how I want my place set up."

"I'm sorry. Meg wanted to pass her chemistry test, so I helped her study."

"Don't worry. It's cool." She pointed to the armchair and bent down to grip underneath it to the side so the legs didn't fly up. "At least I have time now, and so do you."

"Yeah."

They hauled the chair ten feet back and two feet to the right by the couch, and Tara called a break since she'd made help her move the bookshelf—with what books were on there—and the TV stand and a few boxes. She poured them each a glass of ice water, Lilly chugged it down, and Tara smiled around her few sips, checking her phone for any missed calls. She'd shut it off accidentally, and she exhaled a sigh of relief when her missed calls were at zero. Though a slight pang that Denise had yet to call her back.

"You okay?" Lilly lowered her cup.

"Yeah, no murders have been reported." She set her phone down.

"You don't seem too happy about that. Is something wrong?"

"Not really. I'm just...thinking about all I have to rearrange because my sister doesn't know me at all."

"Oh, shut up."

She smiled. "How's Meg doing?"

"A little quiet lately, if I'm being honest. I'm a little worried." She leaned over the counter, the side of it cool against the bit of skin that was revealed when she leaned over. "She seems upset, but she won't talk to me."

"Upset? Why?"

"I... Amy came over last night, and she asked me if I had a date."

"I feel like there's a big part of the story you haven't told me yet."

"A guy came into the hospital with two men who'd fought in his bar a bit ago. Uh, it was the weekend you were recovering from your head injury. He was with me while I stitched his cousin, and he asked me to his bar for a free drink. Amy said yes, and she wanted to know if we had a date set."

"Wait, wait, wait. You went?" Tara gaped. "To his bar?"

"She wouldn't shut up until I agreed, so yeah."

"And? Tell me about this mysterious guy—whose name I hope you know."

"I _do_ know his name." Her lips ghosted a smile as she recalled the events of that night. "We—Amy and I went, and Amy ditched me to talk to some random stranger at the bar. We talked for a long time, and he seems normal. I mean, he's sweet, funny, and he's a little strict when it comes to his employees, but other than that..."

"Aww, Lilly's smitten."

She blushed. "I am not! It's just hot in here! You had me rearrange your whole damn living room."

"Yeah, the tomatoes in my fridge aren't half as red as you are."

The heat in her face worsened, and all she could do was glower. "Anyway, Amy wanted to know if we had a date, and Meghan overheard."

"Overheard?"

"She was doing her homework in the living room, and I didn't think Amy would bring it up, but of course she did." She swallowed. "I haven't dated in a long while, and it's just been the two of us, and—I don't know. She just doesn't seem...to want to be around me anymore. I tried to explain that we weren't dating, but...she didn't want to hear it. She's been...catching rides to school with her friends."

"When did Amy come over?"

"After you solved your case."

"It's only been two days, Lilly. Just give her a bit of time. You haven't dated in forever, and I'm sure she's trying to figure out if this guy is good enough for you, and what it'll mean if it becomes serious."

"But we're _not_ dating. I haven't spoken to him since that night, and I'm not sure I want to."

"Do you like him? 'Cause it seems like you like him. A lot actually."

She frowned. "That doesn't matter. Megan does."

"Dude, it completely matters. You deserve to be happy. You deserve someone good and funny, and I know you're scared, and Meg might make an even bigger fuss, but if you don't try, you're gonna end up old and alone. Bitter." Tara wet her bottom lip and pulled out an old person voice, "And you'll wonder what if, sweet pea."

Lilly wanted go glare, but she snickered instead.

"Give him a shot."

"But Me—"

"Leave her to me. I'll pick her up from school, and we'll talk."

"I appreciate it, but if I am going to date Caesar, I need to be the one to talk to her."

"Caesar? That's his name?"

"Yeah, he owns that bar, Martinez's."

Tara's mouth dried out. "Oh."

"What?" Lilly's brows knitted together over the expression clouding her sister's face. "What? Was he suspected of murder or something?"

"No—no. I just went there a long time ago, and I met him briefly. He was working to cover the shift of his employee. His—his wife was having a baby or something. I dunno. It's been years." She pulled out a fake smile, but she'd used it enough that Lilly bought it. Or so it appeared to Tara. "Yeah, he's a great guy. I think you two would be good together."

"Who knows. I'd have to actually call him to set up a date, and I don't even know what I'd wear, or where'd we go. I haven't been on a date...in so long. I don't know what to do on a date anymore."

"You'll be fine. Just wait a week or so, make sure Meg's okay with you dating then ask him out."

"A week? You want me to wait a week?"

"Well, Meghan's your daughter. You need to make sure she's okay with it. I mean, if it goes all the way, she'll one day be his kid too."

Lilly nodded. "You're right."

Thank God. She knew the Martinezs were currently planning Lana's funeral, and it wasn't a good time to call him up for a date. A week might not be enough time, but Caesar had made peace with his daughter's death. He wanted only to bury her. Unlike Phillip, he wasn't still angry. She was sure he had his days, but once two more girls had been taken, he knew she wouldn't come back alive. And after all this time, he could bury her, and Tara was grateful to have been apart of this case, to have helped get him her body back. She fully intended to attend the funeral, pay her respects to the family and to him.

Her phone buzzing cut through her thoughts, Tara picked it up and saw it was Rosita, and Lilly straightened.

"Duty calls." She collected Tara's cup and her own and put them in the sink. "I'll lock up for you."

"Thanks." She swiped her coat and beanie as it was snowing out. "Chambler."

––

Rosita and Sasha met Tara and Michonne outside an apartment building and filled in the blankets. Forty-two year old Mark Turner had been sodomized and killed, and his body was hanging from the balcony. It wasn't found by a passerby; it was called in by the man's sister, Melanie Cohen. She was staying with him through a bad divorce, and she had been drugged and locked in the closet. She escaped about half an hour ago, called 911, but she didn't have a mark on her. She was shaken up, and Grimes decided to go speak with her.

"So far, we haven't found a book or hair out of place," Rostia reported to Williams and Chambler. "Lerner's calling in the soon-to-be ex-husband. Why don't you go and join her, Sasha? You've always had a way with disgruntled husbands."

"Some women can cook, some can shook a gun and hit a rabbit at hundred paces, but me? I can get answers out of pissed off assholes." She smiled sweetly and walked off to find her car.

"Do you think she was in on it?" Tara whispered to Rosita, spotting Grimes and the vic.

"I don't know. It could have been done this way so the doer could make her take the fall." She folded her arms. "Or maybe we're just dealing with an asshole who doesn't hurt women."

"I'll check in with CSU." Tara did a double take of Rosita.

"What?" Rosita narrowed her eyes some.

"Late night?" She repressed a smirk.

"No, actually. I was home before Alejándro's bedtime."

"You sure about that?"

"Why do you ask, Chambler?"

"You are just...missing an earring." She tapped her right ear so Rosita would know which one was missing and strolled off inside the building.

Rosita touched her earlobe and found that she was missing an earring. She hadn't noticed this morning. She'd have to look for it later. She removed the other and remembered how Sasha had looked her. Chuckling to herself, she was glad Tara had at least pointed it out. She turned to have a word with the coroner, tucking the lonely earring into her pocket, when the apartment complex exploded.


	17. Through The Cracks

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

Denise closed the lid on the pot of chili was making for her brother, hearing the TV blaring from the bedroom yet again, and she wanted to bang her head against the table. She was already over an hour late for work, because he was sleeping in her bed, and she was on the couch, and her alarm wasn't set. She would have used her phone, if she hadn't given it to Dennis so he could play games on it while he recovered. He then proceeded to lose it. She tried calling it, hoping it'd ring and turn up, but no such luck. She thought she heard him playing a game on it last night, but when she checked, he was out cold. She could've sworn she heard music though. It must have been her exhausted state playing tricks on her.

She gathered her things. "Turn it down, Dennis. Mrs. Henley can hear the four o' clock news, and she's partly deaf!"

"I will, but Denise, you have to—"

"I can't. I have to be at work. Just turn it down, and the chili's cooking now. If you need help with anything, call Betsy, okay? She lives down the hall, and I gave her the spare key. If you're feel any unusual pain, or if you want me to pick up anything from the store, call me. I'll see you tonight." She ran out the front door.

"Yeah, your friend might have been killed," he finished to the space she left behind. "Oh, and she called a couple times, but I forgot to tell you until now, because of the painkillers knockin' me on my ass. Thanks, great talk." He huffed and settled down on the bed. The next time he broke a limb, he was going to break it in a state where Denise wasn't his emergency contact.

– – –

A keen ringing hummed in Rosita's ears, her body ached, and she didn't understand why. One minute she was going to speak with the coroner, and the next her vision was obscured, her head stinging. She could feel something wet seeping through her pants, and she smelled smoke. She could hear thundering flames nearby, and there was screaming—crying. It was beyond the ringing.

Slowly the apartment complex of Mark Turner came into focus, half of it was collapsed, black smoke twisting up toward the sky, red flames devouring what of the building remained, and shattered glass lay all around her. She noticed then what was causing the wetness by her leg, and she scrambled back at the sight of one of the members of the crime scene unit lying on her legs. He was dead, likely thrown back and out the window from the explosion, and she released a series of short, panicked breaths, her body trembling.

"Tara..." She rolled onto her knees and remembered her friend entering the building. "Tara!" It was an echoed whisper in her ears, and she tried to approach the building, tried to dash inside, but someone grabbed her. "Let me go!"

"Rosita, no." It was Michonne. "The building's on fire. You can't go in there."

"Tara's in there!" She looked over her shoulder at Michonne. "She's—she's in there."

"I know, but we can't go in." She hauled her backward. "The firemen will be here soon, and they'll clear the building of anyone who's alive. There's a paramedic here. You have to let him see you."

"Tara—"

"—has to wait." Michonne's voice was soft, the tearful edge eluding Rosita as the buzzing continued.

"Michonne! Rosita!" Sasha ran over to them. "Oh, God." She touched Rosita's face, blood sliding down the side of her cheek from her ears. "Are you all right, Michonne?"

"Yeah, Melanie and I had taken a walk. We weren't hurt."

"Where's Chambler?" Sasha looked from Rosita to Michonne, seeing the hollow tint to their eyes. She whirled around. "No...no. Tara." She stepped forward, but no further. She wanted to run inside, to scream and yell and plead for Tara to make herself known so she could drag her out of there, but her legs wouldn't move. If they could, Michonne would have stopped her anyway. Distantly she could hear the sirens, and she hoped they weren't too late.

––

Lilly finished emptying the plates, cups and silverware into their rightful places, folding the boxes and sliding them between the couch and the wall like Tara had told her. She slid the clothes boxes and suitcases to the bedroom, setting up the family pictures about the living room, and she found one of their father.

It was the day Tara got her shield. She was so glad to be out of uniform and into homicide. Dad had been very worried about Tara joining the big leagues, but he was just as proud. His little knee scraper had made detective. His smile spelled out joy and pride in every way a smile could—as it had when she graduated and became a nurse. He was so full of life here, with his arm around Tara and Meghan at his hip. Tara's shield was in direct view, the smile on her lips the biggest and brightest Lilly had seen her on ever. It was a great shot, if she said so herself.

She fiddled with her necklace, gazing at her father and wishing she had even a drop of his skill as a parent. He could always cut straight through to the heart of the problem. She suspected it was the cop in him, but who could say for sure. All she knew was if he took one look at Megan, he'd know exactly what was wrong and how to make it better. When she looked at Meghan, all she saw a thick, brick wall, and she had no idea how to begin to scale it. She wanted to be a good mother, but her example had been taken from her, and the issues Meghan had, Lilly hadn't at her age. Hell, not even Tara had these issues. Her biggest struggle was what plaid over-shirt to wear to school when she was fourteen, or when Lilly would be back.

She tenderly leaned the photo on its stand on the coffee table, fondly stroking her finger across her dad's face, and she grabbed more pictures to decorate the living room with. Tara could rearrange them at a later time if she didn't like them. This apartment just needed some life in, some color. Maybe she could pick up some color swatches for Tara, because this place was too white and dull. It was borderline depressing, and it'd be a glare to look at in the morning when the light came in. White and light was not a good combination. It hurt her eyes, and so did neon colors in sunlight.

Her phone hummed loudly against the counter, she set the picture frames down, wondering where the hammer was. These frames were to be hung from the walls, and she didn't want to fill the wall with holes, but Tara wouldn't get on it. She'd leave in the box to gather dust. She scooped up her phone, answered it and discovered the attendance lady from Meghan's high school, Phyllis. She'd asked her to call if Meghan didn't show up for school. Oh, God.

"She wasn't in first period?" Lilly's heart sank. "Are you sure?"

"I checked myself. She isn't here."

"Shit." She sighed, forehead against her palm. "uh, thank you for alerting me."

"You're welcome, Lilly. I hope you find her."

"Bye." She hung up, snatching her keys from the counter and dashing from the apartment. She would check their place first, and she'd ask Tara to put out some feelers. There was no way in hell Meghan cut school just to hang out at home, and they would find her faster than Lilly would, roaming the city without even clue where she was going. She didn't know where Meghan would run to. She knew where she hung out at, but not where she'd run to when she was cutting school again. The last time some random cop found her in some shoddy hole in the wall of a building, drunk off her ass. Meghan didn't even know where that place was, so where could she look?

She rang Tara, unlocking her car door, but there was no response. It didn't ring. It wasn't sent to voice mail. There was nothing but the automated voice telling her this person was no longer at this number. She frowned and tried again, but it was same thing. She shook her head and tossed her phone to the passenger seat. Tara likely ran out of minutes and forgot to refill it. She'd stop by the station on her way back from checking on Meghan in the apartment. It wasn't as though something terrible happened to her. She couldn't have her daughter cut class and be out there in the city somewhere with God only knew who, and her sister in trouble. That couldn't happen on the same, right?

– – –

There was an muffled ringing coupled with the whooshing sound of ravenous flames, smoke filled the lobby, probably the entire building too, along rubble from the crumbling ceiling. The apartment complex had been taken down from the middle, where their victim's apartment had been located. The bodies of the crime scene unit who had been inside at time were thrown about, pieces of them lying here and there, and some bodies had been crushed entirely by the collapsing upper floors. It wouldn't be long before the building folded in on itself.

Her vision was failing her, water flooding her eyes from the blaze's powerful smoke, the distant flames and rubble surrounding her were a blur. Her body was warm, and she felt the warmth of blood on her, pooling on her shoulder. It was sliding down from her ears, mixing with the blood from the gash on her temple. Her ankle tingled from where it was pinned between fallen pieces of the ceiling, and she didn't know if it was bleeding or not. She could breathe nevertheless, and she could feel everything. Body and its limbs all appeared to be functional, save her pinned ankle. She'd have to pry it free first, but her toes wiggle when commanded. She'd be fine. If only her vision would clear. If only the pounding would stop.

Outside Rosita was unyielding in her one-sided argument with the fire marshal, who wouldn't send his mind inside just yet. They had to ensure the stability of the building before they sent anyone inside to search for survivors. He didn't want to risk his men, Rosita was fuming. No one could calm her down, and she was going off in both English and Spanish at the man. He was trying to speak, but she wouldn't let him get a world in edgewise. It was the same excuse over and over and over again. She didn't want to hear it. She wanted him to get his men into that building and pull out the survivors. It was their job, wasn't it? She couldn't see reason. She just wanted them out and safe.

"Espinosa!" he finally snapped, and she huffed, swallowing her next statement. "I know how this feels, but I can't send my men into that building! I know how upsetting it is, but I can't—"

"Then send me inside!" she interjected. "My detective is in there! She was on the ground floor, please. That's the lobby, and I wouldn't have go far. Please, you have to let me go in!"

"I can't do that. I don't want a marble rolling around in there right now."

"Please." Tears burned in her eyes, but she forced them back. "I'll go in there without your permission. I'll do it."

"You do that, and I'll have you put on the other side of that barricade. You're only here, Captain Espinosa, because I'm allowing you to be here, as a courtesy. Don't push it." With that said, he walked off to address his men.

"Rosita." Sasha touched her arm. "You need to calm down. You can't go in there."

"I don't care!" She jerked her arm back. "I don't—We can't just leave her! Leave them! We can't—we can't abandon the...the crime scene unit. We can't just... We can't!"

Michonne sighed softly. "We can't go barging in there either, Rosita. It's too dangerous."

Her voice broke. "I let them in there. I sent them in there to find evidence, to photograph the crime scene... I can't just... I refuse to... We have to go. We have to—" She threw her arm out to the building. "They could still be alive in there! Not just our team, but the occupants too!"

"I know." Michonne set a hand on her shoulder, testing the waters, and when Rosita didn't jerk away, she hugged her. "I know. It'll be fine. Just calm down."

But it wasn't fine. It was her job to keep her team and civilians safe. It was her duty. She left them in there to speak with her detectives and get a read on their living victim. She abandoned moms and dads and sisters and brothers, babies for all she knew, and now they were up in there, dead and dying, and she couldn't do anything. She was stuck down there, while the CSU and the occupants were suffering, while her own friend was suffering, or dead, or dying! Fuck! Tara!

"It's not your fault." Michonne released her. "You couldn't have known."

Rosita crouched down and covered her face with her hands. "It _is_ my fault."

"How?" Sasha nearly snorted. "Can you sense bombs now?"

"I should have been more thorough," she snipped. "I should have checked every nook and cranky of that apartment, but I didn't. I checked out the balcony then was told you had arrived. I just left!"

"Rosita, none of us suspected the apartment to be rigged to blow," Michonne insisted. "And honestly who could have suspected that?"

"I want in there." Rosita straightened and looked for the fire marshal, but he had gone. "Where the hell is he?"

"He's talking to his men." Michonne nodded her chin to where the man was. "Cool off before you talk to him. You're not the only one worried, and we have to work together. There are many lives at stake here, not just Tara's, and we have to think about the big picture."

Rosita inhaled, listening to her friend. She hated bombers.

––

Nausea rolled up in her stomach, the throbbing in her head so severe she wanted to black out so she didn't have to feel it anymore, and she could hear the building shaking and burning around her. She felt the light dusting and pebbles of cement falling on her forehead, the screech of the elevator slamming down passed the lobby, and the building rumbled once more when it crashed.

She narrowed her eyes and coughed, groaning at white-hot pain in her temple. She couldn't sit up. She knew if she tried, she might actually puke all over herself. And honestly being low to the ground seemed like a good idea if the complex came crashing down around her. She knew getting out was a better idea, but until the throbbing dead down a little, she didn't want to move. She had enough blood in and on her head.

She didn't know what happened. One second she was strolling through the lobby, the next she was waking up, coughing through the dust in the air, bleeding onto her shirt. She hadn't heard anything. It was a haze, likely from the head injury. She would go through the list of what happened, and bomb was the only possibility, given the fire. If someone's apartment had lit up, it wouldn't have gone like this. They'd have seen the smoke and flames long before it blew. And it couldn't be a random collapse either. There wouldn't be fire. Or would there? God, her head... Fuck.

She could hear the sirens outside, but no one had come in. No one had fucking come in, and she couldn't hear them nearby, not voices, not anything. She was scared. She could pretend to not be, but she was alone in a burning building. A burning, _collapsing_ building. If she weren't alone, she'd make sarcastic comments and cheer up the people around her, but she was alone. She was bleeding. She couldn't move to free her foot and try to find her way out, or find survivors. She was stuck, waiting for the last bit of floor or ceiling to give, and it'd all come tumbling down on her like a house of cards.

Jesus Christ, what she wouldn't give to see them again. Lilly. Meghan. Noah. Her family. If this was the end, if she was going to die in here, she wanted to see them again. She wanted to tell them she loved them and to be careful and to be not so fucking scared of change and relationships. She would give anything to hear that laugh again, that adorable, shy sound. She could almost hear it from memory, the precious smile that accompanied it. So hopelessly bashful and beautiful at the same time. She missed seeing that smile, hearing that laugh, and now she might never hear or see anything beyond this. If she made it out of here, Lilly and Meghan were going to hugged so tightly their eyes were going to pop out of their sockets. Noah too, his shoulder be damned. And she was going to find Denise Cloyd and fucking kiss her.


	18. House Of Cards

_A/N: It's a big day for me today, and I'm anxious as hell, so please wish me luck! Even a tiny bit would be great. If I don't post again, know my anxiety has killed me. I'm only slightly joking here. Anyway, have a great read and an amazing day!_

* * *

 ** _Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

"Meghan!" Lilly searched the apartment, but all she found was an open window. She slammed it shut and snatched the phone from the counter. She knew calling the Grimes was hopeless, as Michonne was working the case same as Tara, and Rick was busy with sex crimes, and she didn't have Lori's number. Not her new one anyway, an whenever Meghan was over at Carl's, he was staying with Rick and Michonne. She could try a few of Meghan's other friends' moms, to see if maybe their kids had skipped school together. She had no other start. If this turned up nothing, she'd turn to Tara, but for now she had to try and handle this on her own.

For the next half an hour, Lilly was caught in the same conversation. She paced the length of the couch, chewing on her nails as she waited for her friends to check in with the school to see if their child was there or not. She was assured by Molly's mom, that despite Meghan cutting class, she was fine. It did little to keep the tears from her eyes, and she heard something in the background. It was the whine of the TV, a reporter, and she could make out the word explosion.

"S—Sherry, what is that?" Lilly groped the couch for the remote.

" _Oh, uh, I dunno. Molls left the TV on again._ " She gasped. " _Oh, my God._ "

"What?" Lilly found the remote under the cushion and flicked her own TV on, witness the report, and she saw Tara's team off the side. "Oh, God. What happened?"

" _...they'd yet to enter the unstable building,_ " the female reporter continued. " _It's too dangerous at this time, but they are making every effort to bring in the necessary equipment to secure the building so they may enter and pull out the survivors. Meanwhile the detectives who were here before the explosion have refused to comment._ "

Lilly couldn't see Tara. "Hey, Sherry, do you see Tara anywhere?"

" _Uhh, no. No, I don't._ "

She remembered Tara saying Rosita didn't release details for one reason: one of their own was being held hostage or had been injured, and they were focusing on that. She wouldn't waste time trying to mollify the sharks. "Oh, God, no."

The phone slipped from her fingers, Lilly bounded out the door to her car, ignoring the fact that she may have left her apartment unlocked, and she didn't bother to hang up the phone. She didn't care. She had to get down there and talk to Rosita. She had to know her baby sister wasn't in the building. _God, please, don't let this be happening. Please, please, please. Not Tara, not Tara!_

" _Lilly? Lilly, are you there? What's wrong? Lilly!_ " Sherry's panicked voice called through the deserted cell phone.

––

"Well? Are your special tools coming?" Rosita was trying to keep from sounding like an utter bitch, but she was beyond positive she was failing. Michonne wasn't here to keep her calm, so she'd have to manage on her own.

He shot her a glare. "We have to get that fire out, but the pressure may cause the building to give. We can't know how many survivors there are inside, but if the fire keeps going like it is, it won't matter."

"Meaning?"

"We may have to just risk it. It's not a question of _if_ that building's going to given. It's a question of _when,_ and the fire's already helping that along. We have to act now."

"What if it's too much?"

"Our hands are tied," he admitted. "We can't get our equipment in there and shore it up with the building burning, and we can't just let it burn. We have no choice."

She scoffed. "So, you'll just let them die?"

"I'm not _letting_ anyone die," he growled. "I'm trying to keep everyone alive, and if we're lucky, the pressure won't shift too much of the debris."

"And if you're not?"

His eyes flashed, his jaw tightening, and he swallowed with difficulty. "Then...a lot of people may die here today."

"Christ." She walked away from him, over to Sasha and Lerner, crossing her arms. "What do we know?"

Sasha pointed off the side of the building. "From the cars in the parking lot, we can assume at least half a dozen people were home at the time of the explosion, and the owner."

Lerner eyed the building. "Everyone from Turner's floor and up and the level below are likely dead. The first few levels are somehow holding together, so any survivors would have injures. Some major, causing them to be unable to escape. Some minor, but who can say how the interior of the building is holding up."

Rosita shook her head and covered her mouth with her hand. "They'll start hosing it down," she spoke through parted fingers, "risking the collapse."

"Shit. Are you serious?" Sasha exclaimed. "There are kids in there!" She'd seen them when she headed up to Mark's floor. They were either sick, or their parents kept them home. They were peeking out of the door, probably trying to see why so many cops were walking through the halls. Jesus, this wasn't happening. They were no older than eight and ten.

"I know."

Michonne joined the group. "They have the building locked down. We couldn't even slip through the back door."

"Damn it."

"Could we distract them?" Sasha suggested. "Maybe say part of the building is about to fall, or something? Get them away from the door long enough for one of us get inside?"

"It'd have to be a damn good lie to move them." Michonne glanced at the firefighters. "Where's a pregnant lady when you need one?" A pregnant lady could fake her water breaking, that might do the trick.

"Has someone tried to call Tara?" Rosita began to pace. "Or text her?"

Dawn nodded. "Ten times, but...her phone's either dead, or destroyed."

"Shit!"

"Maybe she's conscious," Dawn stuffed her hands in her pocket, "and trying to get out. Or get to any survivors nearby."

The building groaned, the detectives and firefighters looked at the apartment complex, and glass from the lower floors that hadn't caved shattered as the fire inside spread. Rosita, Michonne, Dawn and Sasha covered their faces, the fire marshal ordered them to get away from there, and Rosita was the last to step back, eyes lingering on the building. She entertained the idea of running inside right now, but she wouldn't make it. There was debris blocking the door anyway. If Tara was alive and tried to make her way out of there, she'd have to make an exit.

"Rosita!"

She stopped breathing and whirled around to the small raven-haired woman being held back by the uniforms, and she paled. It was Tara's sister, and she looked distressed. She knew this was playing on the news, but she had hoped Lilly would be at work, would have somehow missed the broadcast. Shit, how was she going to tell her Tara was trapped inside that building? How was she going to tell her they had no way of knowing if she was even alive? They didn't even know when they could enter the building. They might get the fire out and then it'd go down, killing everybody.

"She's with me." Rosita closed the gap between them.

"Where's Tara?" Lilly was breathless. "I saw you all, but not her. Is she okay? Was she hurt?"

Rosita gulped. "Well, we don't know."

"What?" Her brows knitted together as she frowned. "What the hell does that mean? You don't know? How the hell do you not know?"

"Tara entered the building before the bomb blew, so she's either dead or trapped inside."

Lilly slapped her hand over her mouth and whimpered, shaking her head in denial.

"I'm sorry. We're doing everything we can."

"Oh, don't placate me!" she shouted. "My baby sister is in a burning building! One that I've overheard a strong breeze will knock it over! Forget sorry, just get her out! Right now!"

"We can't enter the building. It's too unstable, and the fire is spreading. They're about to...put the fire out then they'll try and get equipment in there to shore it up. They'll help any survivors they can reach."

"That's too easy. They would have already done that if it was that simple."

"It's high-risk. Due to the bomb being where it was, the building is incredibly fragile. The pressure of the water could call it to collapse on itself."

Lilly fell to her knees at and stared at the building where Tara was. They couldn't be more than hundred feet away. One hundred feet away, and she couldn't do anything to help her sister. If she tried, she might be forced behind a line or handcuffs. Regardless, she'd have to watch as these firemen either cause her baby sister to be burned to death or crushed to death. And she'd be right here, helpless.

"I know how you're feeling." Rosita was on her knees beside her. "And I wish there was more I could do. It's out of my hands, and I can't—I can't do anything."

Lilly whimpered. "Oh, God, Tara."

– – –

"Oh, shit." Dennis reached for the landline, calling his sister's office. He hoped she picked up, because if not, she might regret it. A hell of lot.

"Cloyd's office."

"Hey, Denise, it's me."

"What's wrong?" She began to collect her things at the dread in his voice.

"It's not me."

"Oh. Well, why do you sound so scared? Is there a spider in the room? Or a roach? I shouldn't have either, but I think they sense you're with me and they just creep out of—"

"Now is not the time for that, okay?"

She frowned. "What's going on?"

"Do you have a TV in your office?"

"No."

"How about WiFi?"

"Yes, of course."

"There might be a live feed then. Try one of those news web pages."

"Why?"

"Because a bomb just went off in one of those ritzy apartments, and it's collapsing and on fire."

"Dennis, I have a job to do. It's execrable what's happening to those people, and I hope they survive, but I can't just ditch my patients to check some burning building. I don't care how "cool" or "awesome" you think it is, it's just the medication you're on, and you'll feel guilty later. I have to go."

"Tara was in the building," he snapped. "The cameras were going over the crowd, and one of the lady cops said it. They don't now if she's dead or alive, sis."

At the mention of Tara's name, the air inside Denise's lungs fled, and the room tilted. She sat down and her fingers began to look for the live feed he mentioned. She found one almost immediately, and she turned the volume on. She could see Rosita and Michonne with a woman who's back was to the camera, and she could see how worried they were, how terrified they were, and she couldn't breathe.

"It's really bad, Denise. I'm so sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" She hoped this feed hadn't suffered severe lag, and she'd missed the building going down. "Did something happen?"

"Well, it's still up, but only for now. I know you and Tara were more than just doctor-patient. I'm sorry this is happening."

"Don't be sorry, Dennis. For God's sake, she could still be alive. Don't give me condolences for someone who isn't dead!"

He winced at the yelling in his ear. "Well, it's not looking good, D."

"Forget how it looks. She could still be alive." She hung up on her brother and scurried from the building, having Patty cancel her appointments on her way, and she hoped she made there in time. She didn't want to pull up as it went down and Tara was still inside. She knew there were other people inside, and she did want them to get out safely, but they weren't Tara. She didn't know them. She didn't feel this way about them, and she needed Tara to get out of this alive.

Since their lunch, she'd been so busy with her brother, and she'd been unable to call her back. She'd been in with the doctor who was going over the damage when Tara called the second time, and she had to ignore the call. She didn't want to seem rude, and she planned on explaining, but everything happened the way it did, and she wasn't able to. The first time Tara called, she missed it due to trying to get back even see Dennis. God, what must Tara have thought of that? And if she tried to call her later, Denise didn't get them, because her jackass older brother had her phone. Her jackass older brother who thought it'd be fun to "borrow" his friend's motorcycle and drive downtown, even though he had no clue how to operate a goddamn motorcycle. He couldn't even drive, for pity's sake. Denise had learned, and he bummed rides from her all the time in Ohio, and eventually he moved up here where he didn't need a car. Him and his damn "I thought it'd be easy", "I thought I'd get the hang of it, like riding a bike".

She wasn't upset with Dennis, not really. She was trying to not lose her mind at the reality of Tara being trapped inside a building that's last leg was aflame. She never even got to tell Tara why she wanted to cancel their sessions, and now she may never be able to, because Tara could be dead. For all she knew, Tara was dead, and she was hoping against hope for a lost cause. Even getting there wouldn't do much, and it wouldn't answer her questions, but if she could get there, maybe there was something she could do. Maybe once the fire was out and the building was secure, she'd get to see Tara walking out of there. Or maybe she'd need help walking if she was hurt, and they'd carry her out. Maybe...just maybe if she got there in time, if there was something she could do, if there was new angle she could help Rosita come up with, she could somehow avoid Tara had already been brought out in a body bag.

––

Tara could hear the building moaning, eager to let go of the loose couches and beds and walls and ceilings that were smashed together and barely being held up, and she knew she had to get her ass moving. She couldn't lounge around here like it was a day spa. Head injury or no, she had to try. She had to get out of this bed of cement and blood right the hell now.

She pushed herself up. "Oh, fucking fuck of Fuckdonia!" She didn't even want to touch her head as it throbbed like a pulsing rave, and she cried out. "Shit, shit, shit." She would have cried, but this wasn't a time for tears. She could cry and snot and bleed when her life wasn't in danger. Well, she couldn't stop the bleeding right now, but still, there would be no crying. But plenty of cursing, but mother of fuck this was fucking agony!

She was unable to hear anything beyond a screeching in her ear, but she could smell and see just fine. Mostly fine. It was fine enough for her to get out of here. She'd deal with the possible permanent hearing loss later.

She gripped the block of ceiling that had her leg trapped, grunting as she pushed and pushed, trying to get it off, but she had no such luck. She inhaled and shook her hands, trying again, but it wasn't moving. "Fuck. Fuck." She stopped trying and looked at the other blocks surrounding her ankle, seeing any if the smaller ones could be moved for her freedom, and she nearly did cry when she realized there was nothing she could do or move. They were too heavy, and she was too weak and dizzy. So fucking dizzy. It was like a carousel from hell.

"Fuck!" she shouted, wincing at the sound of it vibrating through her skull, and she felt tears prickle up in the corners of her eyes. "Come on!" She shoved at the bit of ceiling. "Move, please."

It wasn't going to, and the building wasn't going to stand tall forever. She lied back and covered her face with her hands, heedful to not touch her temple or forehead with her fingertips, and she tried not to cry. She wouldn't spend what could be her last couple minutes crying, feeling sorry for herself, when she could be looking for a way out. Fuck tears of frustration!

She snuffled and soothed herself back frmo the ledge of crying like a baby and letting death win. She had people to see, a girl to kiss, and a job to do. There was no room in her schedule for dying, and if there was, she probably wouldn't have time for it. Let's be real here. She barely had time to grab a cup of coffee, let alone die. The grim reaper would be checking his watch and be like, 'Where is this, bitch? Other people gotta die too.'. Asshole probably got some kind of bonus for every massive group of souls he brought in. The lesbian slot would not be filled by her, thank you very fucking much.

She lowered her hands and worried for a second about the head trauma she was suffering from then sat up and looked for something to pry her leg free with. She wasn't about to do some _Saw_ shit and cut her ankle off—she didn't have a blade to do that anyway—so there had to be a cane or umbrella or something she could use to get free.

She paused and grabbed her belt, finding her gun. She wondered how much weight it could hold. If she wiggled it into the gap by her ankle, she might be able to widened it enough to slip her foot out. It was all she had, so she didn't have a choice.

Removing the clip and the bullet in the chamber, she scooted forward, wincing at the cement scrapping at her skin, and she lodged the butt of her gun in the hole with her ankle. She used her other hand to try and lift. An inch or two would be great, hell a small crack would be amazing at this point.

After about ten minutes of turning and twisting, slicing open her few knuckles and forever ruining her gun, she was able to slip it through where she needed. Using all the force she could muster, she pressed down to raise the chunk of ceiling, and it was enough to pull her ankle free. She laughed once and rubbed her tender, bleeding ankle.

She mustered up her strength, inhaling and exhaling quickly three times, and she stood up. She almost swiftly folded like a box, but she caught her knees and swallowed through the waves of nausea that slammed against her throat. She breathed slowly in and out until it receded, and she lifted her head, scanning the area.

The front door was blocked by rubble piled upon rubble and a bathtub too. The windows were an option, but she felt like if she busted it out, she better make damn sure she really wanted out. Her and any survivors. She knew it was stupid, and she knew it wasn't her job as a homicide detective, but if she didn't try and save as many lives as she could here today then who the hell was she? No one good, that was fucking who.

"Hello?" Her voice was foreign to her ears, and she stood up, stumbling toward the hall where a line of elevators once stood on either side. "Can anybody hear me? Is anybody there?" She coughed. "Hello?"

Nothing.

"C'mon! Can you hear me?!" she screamed like she used to scream at Lilly for taking her stuff. "Hello?! I'm a detective! Hello?!"

"...help us!"

Tara coughed again and looked around for whoever had spoken, and she saw one of the elevators with ajar doors. The entire box had tilted, so it appeared, the doors bent and awkwardly opened. It was must have been heading to the parking garage, because it wasn't properly leveled on the floor. She had to bend down, and she could see two little kids. One of them was a boy passed out with a small pool of blood surrounding his head, and there was a little girl, who was clearly his sister.

"I'm here." Tara lied down on her belly. "Is he okay?"

"I don't know." She tearfully said, "Please, help him."

"I will, baby girl. I will. I promise he'll be okay. Can you lift him up?"

She nodded a little.

"Okay, sweetie. I need you to lift him up as high as you can, and I'll pull him up then you, okay?" She didn't trust how long this elevator would hold, given its sibling that crashed. "Quickly."

The auburn haired child carefully moved him into a sitting position, wrapping her arms around him and standing up. The elevator wobbled, she gasped and whimpered, and Tara held her arms out.

"Come on, honey. I'm right here. I'm right here."

She held him like a doll and tried to lift him up more, but she couldn't. She wasn't strong enough, and the detective couldn't reach. She jumped, the detective tried to grab him, but she couldn't. She jumped again, but Tara's arms weren't that long. At the movement, the young boy briefly came to, Tara instructed him to lift his hands, and his sister told him it was okay.

"She's a cop. Like Daddy said, we can trust the police. Reach up, Zane."

He lifted his arms, Tara clasped his little wrists and hauled him up and onto the ground floor. The building began to shudder, Tara felt water drip down on her head, and she knew the pressure the water came shooting out of those hoses. It might dislodge a piece of couch or floor or whatever the fuck was keeping this place from tumbling in, and then it was going to be pancake city.

"Fuck me." She bent down and reached for the girl, who had curled up in the far corner when the elevator began to shake, sobbing.

"What's happening?!"

"It's okay, just give me your hands."

There was a loud thud, the elevator across from them screeched then fell down the shaft, bits of the building falling after it, and Tara felt a cold sweat trickle down her body, knowing it was only a matter of seconds before that happened to this elevator.

"Sweetie, give me your hands." She reached out. "Come on."

She started to stand when something smack on the top of the elevator, it jiggled, and she whimpered, falling to her knees. "I want my daddy!"

"And you'll get him! Just take my hand, okay? Come one, sweetie, just take my hand. We'll get your daddy, I swear. I swear. He's probably outside right now, waiting to hug you and your brother. Come on, honey, give me your hand. Be brave, okay? Can you do that for me?"

She was breathing heavily, bawling in fear, but she nodded. She stood up and hurried over, reaching for Tara's hands. She had to jump, but Tara got her. She pulled the little girl up, wrapping an arm around her waist when she up enough and sliding her out. She embraced the young girl who was trembling.

"Good girl." She rubbed her back. "C'mon."

"Zane." She reached for her brother.

"Let's get outta here." Tara picked the little boy up off the ground, the little girl wrapped her arms around Tara's waist, and Tara was about to head toward the lobby when the sound of loud thumping came. Like dropping something from a way up high, and the elevator the kids were in came tumbled down with water and cement and a lot of other shit.

They hurried to the lobby, but the glass was a lot thicker than it looked. Had she had her gun, she'd have shot it out, but she didn't. The one she sometimes carried on her ankle was at home in a drawer, because she didn't think she'd need it. She was supposed to be unpacking, a fun day off with the sis. Fun, right.

Tara set the boy down by his sister and found a loose piece of rubble that she could kind of lift. She swung back and forth and chucked it at the window with as much force as she could muster, and thankfully it didn't let her down. She thought it'd be like one of the movies, all dramatic and shit, but that was pretty easy. Movies made things look so much harder than they were. Or she had a lot of adrenaline pumping through her body. Probably the latter as she didn't feel as sore as she had when she first stood up.

"Out, out, out." Tara collected the boy, the girl jumped out and fell to her knees, and Tara stepped out. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She stood up, her knees bleeding, and she groaned.

"Can you move?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I want you to run. Run as fast as you can toward that mass of people. Go! I've got your brother, just run, okay?"

She saw the badge on her belt, though she already believed the woman when she said she was a cop, but now she really know. Zane was in the second best hands. "Okay." She nodded then started a mad dash toward the crowd. She could see firefighters and other cops, and she didn't look back. She could hear the building coming down, but she didn't look back. She wouldn't look back.

"Abby!"

Rosita had turned away when they began to try and control the fire, but at the more joyful than anguished cry from a man in the crowd, she spun around to see a little girl with bloody knees and tears in her eyes barreling over to them. "What the...?"

"Daddy!" She didn't stop until she was in his arms, and she sobbed.

"Oh, thank God." He slumped to his knees. "Oh, Abby."

"Zane's okay too." She hugged him tighter. "The cop said so."

"Cop?" Rosita bent down. "What cop, sweetie?"

She stepped back. "The one with the bloody head like Zane. She said it. She promised it."

"Tara!" Lilly stumbled to stand up, running toward her little sister, who was bloody and covered with white dust, and she was holding a little boy in her arms who was bleeding too. She watched Tara fall, holding the boy in her arms, and Lilly dropped down beside her, grabbing her face, mindful of her injuries. "Are you okay? Are you all right? Look at me."

"The boy... He needs medical attention." She held him out toward her sister.

"The EMTs are coming." Lilly accepted the unconscious child nevertheless and wrapped her arm around her sister. "You scared the shit out of me. Don't ever do that again!"

She gave a lop-sided smile. "What? You mean this hasn't been your best day off ever?"

She laughed through her tears. "You sarcastic asshole!"

The paramedics joined them then, Lilly handed over the child and wiped at her eyes, and they wheeled them back to the ambulances. Rosita flew to Tara's side—the one Lilly was glued to—and she squeezed her hand before they loaded her into the ambulance. Michonne and Sasha fetched the car to drive after them, Lerner offered to stay behind to assist the firemen, and Rosita blinked back tears. This was the worst fucking day, but Tara was alive. She saved two little kids. The others might not have made it, but three did. They would know how many didn't later, but for now...three was enough.


	19. Girl Gone

_A/N: Thank you all for all your kind wishes! I thought I'd let you know I won't be updating quite as much as before, but I'll try to update as much as possible!_

* * *

 ** _Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

Rosita approached the fire marshal once the fire had died, sending Sasha and Michonne on ahead, because she needed to have word with him. She'd drive herself to the hospital immediately afterward, maybe pick up some flowers or something for Tara. She might just kiss her on the face and lightly hug the crap out of her. God, she'd never come that close to losing one of her team in a long time. She didn't want to go through something like this in for a good, long while. Like in four years. Or twenty-five. They'd likely go a month then be thrown into chaos again.

"Do you think anyone else could have survived?" She crossed her arms.

"If they were very lucky." His eyes were dark and guarded.

"I can't say you made the right choice, but you made a choice, and I know it wasn't easy. I'm sorry I went off on your and called you an asshole. I've just never had this happen before, and I didn't handle it well. I'm sorry."

"When did you call me an asshole?"

She blanched. "Oh, yeah, that was in Spanish." She didn't have to mention that. "I'm sorry again."

"Don't worry about it. Believe it or not, it's happened to me before."

She smiled and spotted someone familiar in the crowd. "I have to go meet my detective at the hospital, check in Zane and Abby, but it was nice...knowing you."

"Same to you."

She headed over to her and pulled her aside, knowing what this would be about. "It's okay. She's okay."

"I know. I know. I saw." She wanted to go over to them, but she had no badge, so she could only watch from afar. Just seeing Tara, in spite of being bloody and bruised and filthy, was like a balm to her nerves and her heart. "She saved those kids."

"That's Tara." Rosita slid her hands into her pockets. "I'm going to the hospital to see how she is, do you want to ride with me? Or I can go with you."

"You sure you don't want to get cleaned up first?"

Rosita remembered the member of CSU she came to with on her body and cringed. "I'll shower later. I just want to know if there's any news on Tara. She was covered in blood, and it wasn't just the little boy's, so I need to know first. And the little boy too."

She nodded. "I'll drive. You're still shaken."

"You don't need to tell me that. I know I'm shaken." Rosita laughed and undid her ponytail. "After such a great night too." She gathered her hair and caught the look from Denise. "What?"

"You're going to be the death of Spencer."

"Well, my team's going to be the death of me."

"You aren't causally sleeping with your team, and they aren't the father of your child." Denise led her to the car. "You know he's in love with you."

"No, he's not."

"Trust me, I know what it looks like. He's in love with you."

She rolled her eyes. "Just drive."

– – –

Lilly contacted her neighbor Jeanette at the hospital to keep an eye out for Meghan and to make sure she'd locked up. She called Noah to let him know what happened, if he hadn't already caught in on the news, and she returned to the waiting room. She knew it'd be a good wait, and she didn't mind, because she knew Tara would be all right. She had always been the strong one between the two of them, and she knew she'd come out just fine. After surviving all she had so far, she had to be fine.

Michonne and Sasha spotted Lilly, asking if she'd heard anything, but she shook her head. They joined her, having a seat, and Lilly sighed softly, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Where's Meghan?" Sasha noticed the young girl wasn't anywhere in sight.

"I don't know." Lilly could feel the urge to cry sweeping over her. "The school called and told me she didn't show. I called all of her friends' parents to see if maybe their kids cut, and it was something they all did together, but they were all at school. Then I saw the news about Tara. I rushed over."

"Do you know where she'd have gone?" Michonne prodded. "Someone she feels safe? Someone maybe you wouldn't think to look?"

"I called the library, what's where she goes a lot, but she wasn't there. Meghan doesn't get out very often. I work too much, and she's stuck at the apartment unless one of her friends invite her over. Or Tara takes her out."

"Did she run away, maybe?" Sasha inquired. "Was she upset with you?"

"She had no reason to be upset. I mean, there a man I'd considered dating, but nothing's going to come of it. She knows better than to think...her father's going to come back."

"Could he have taken her? Or maybe he came to visit, and they went out?"

"He doesn't visit," Lilly retorted. "He hasn't visited her in years. He wants nothing to do with her or me. He wouldn't come and take her anywhere, or kidnap her. He would barely take her for a weekend."

"We're just trying to be thorough, Lilly. That's all. If Meghan is missing, we need to go through every possibility."

"Oh, God." She leaned forward, face in her hands.

Michonne rubbed her back, nodding to her partner.

"I'll be right back." Sasha stood up and headed outside to make a phone call.

"We'll find her, Lilly. It'll be okay."

First Tara and now Meghan. Or first Meghan then Tara and now back to Meghan? God, how much worse could this day get?

––

Lilly didn't want to leave the hospital until she got to see Tara, but there were scans to run and tests to perform, and they wanted to get a location on Meghan, so she had no choice. She ran into Rosita on her way out and asked her to stay with Tara, and Rosita promised. She wouldn't leave any of hers behind, or alone in a hospital. It seemed to calm Lilly, reassure her, and they drove back to the station.

Rosita asked the nurse to call to her when they had news on Tara, or when they could see her, and she found Denise. "What'd you do? Park ten miles away?" She could have run through the hospital in the time it took Denise to park. Twice!

"Very funny." She crossed her arms. "How is she? Do you know?"

"No, I don't know anything. I asked for them to call when she can see visitors. We're not family, but my badge will clear any issues up there." She gestured for her to sit, and she crossed her legs. "I would have introduced you to Tara's sister, but again you spent ten minutes parking."

"I had to check on my brother, and I've already met Lilly."

"Right, the last time we were here for Tara." She smiled weakly. "It's been a long day, and it's still the same day."

"Don't worry about it."

"God, what did Dennis do now?" She faced her. "And don't spare any details. It's going to be a long, long while, I suspect."

– – –

"We're down two with Rosita's at the hospital with Tara," Sasha informed Lerner. "And on top of the murder, we may have a missing kid."

"What the hell is this day?" Dawn frowned. "First the murder then the building and now this?"

"It's Tara's niece too."

"What? Meghan? _Missing_?"

"Possibly. Lilly can't find her, her friends don't know where she is, and the feelers I sent have reported nothing. It's been hours, and not a peep. They're not unreliable by any means, so I'm going to call some hospitals, see if Meghan got hurt. Then I'll call the other stations, see if she got picked up for drinking again. I just want to check everywhere."

"I can do that," a voice from behind them said.

They turned to find Noah standing behind them, Dawn didn't know when he was due back, but she knew it wasn't so soon, and Sasha momentarily wondered how in the world he managed to get down here with Beth working and no one to watch Nathan.

"Noah." She carefully hugged him. "Hey."

"Hey." He smiled. "I heard about what happened today, and I thought you could use a hand. I have one to offer, and phone calls aren't strenuous."

"Noah, you're still recovering."

"You're out Rosita and Tara—you said so yourself. Let me help. I want to do this."

Sasha sighed. "All right, fine. Call the local hospitals. You know the drill." She turned to Lerner. "Why don't hit the streets? There are a lot of clubs allow under-aged girls to get in."

"What will you do?" Dawn grasped her keys.

"Michonne and I will work the case."

They parted ways to do their tasks, Sasha called in the husband to have a word with him, Michonne was still with Lilly, and she wished she would have asked Dawn to give her hand with the case instead. It was too late for that, and Dawn was good at working the street. She was one of the best at undercover work. She had a lot of contacts. They could come in handy. They had too, because they had a murder case, one of theirs in the hospital, and they couldn't afford to remain scattered at a time like this.

Lilly sat across from Michonne. "You asked if she ran away?"

"She did leave once before," Michonne distractedly murmured. "We need to make sure she didn't plan this. Did she know you'd be out with Tara?"

"Uhh, yeah. I told her before she left for school."

"She left for school?" She raised her gaze. "You didn't take her?"

"No. She's been catching rides with Sherry and Molly, and I think with Rick and your boys."

"Rick hadn't mentioned taking Meghan to school." She stopped writing. "Did Sherry say she took Meghan to school?"

"I didn't ask. Why?"

"The school only called you today, so Meghan's been going, but if she wasn't catching rides with Rick or Sherry, how was she getting there? She couldn't have walked. Could she have taken a cab?"

"She only has money for lunch."

"Does she know any older kids who drive?"

"No." Lilly quickly amended that with, "Well, not that I know of."

She nodded. "I'll talk to her friends. They might know more."

"Are your sons really going to tell you Meghan's been hitching rides with an older kid?"

Michonne smiled. "You'd be surprised what I can get Carl and Andre to confess."

Lilly averted her eyes. "How can this be happening? How did I not notice this was happening? I must truly be the worst mother on the planet."

"You're not the worst mom on the planet. You wanted to give her some space. It's not your fault. I'm sure we'll find her soon. She's not stupid enough to wander off alone, or to fall prey to..."

Lilly met her eyes. "To?"

Michonne sat back in her seat silently.

"To?" Lilly repeated. "Fall prey to what?"

"It's nothing. I'm sure she'll be fine." She rose. "Why don't you go back to the hospital and check on Tara? We'll handle this."

Lilly narrowed her eyes. "What are you so afraid to tell me?"

"I'll call you when I have news." She stepped out of the lounge and headed to Rosita's office, waving at Sasha to join her, and Sasha instructed the husband to wait in the interview room. Michonne closed the door once she was in and faced her.

"What's going on? You look a little pale. Is everything all right?"

"Something Lilly told me about Meghan going to school with friends."

"Yeah, what's so important about that? Your sons are friends with her. They didn't take her."

"No, Rick hasn't taken Meghan to school, and I'll need to confirm it with Molly's mom, but if I'm right, Meghan's in a lot of danger."

Sasha tensed. "Why? What do you know about this?"

"Rick talks to me about his cases, and he's been talking about this group his unit's been tracking for months now." Sasha nodded her on. "They take in girls around Meghan's age, seducing them with anything—clothes, jewelry, pills, alcohol, money even. They have a body type, and Meghan fits it. She was already found drunk once, and she wandered off. They probably lost her or saw her with the cops. They likely backed off then, waited for the heat to die down then tried again. They might have gotten her this time."

"Wait, wait, wait. We dealt with the asshole who got her drunk. I remembered because it took a while to track him down."

"Well, he could be used to find the girls, lure them in. Who knows? If I'm right, this is huge. And if I'm right, our window of finding Meghan just grew incredibly small."

– – –

It was early morning before they could see Tara, and she wasn't even conscious. She was asleep now, after all those tests and scans and stitches she'd had to get. She hadn't suffered extensive damage to her head or ears, but she would have a lot of restrictions for a while. She was going to hate it, be driven stir-crazy, but if she didn't want to entirely lose her hearing, she'd heed their warnings and advice.

The doctor said she was incredibly lucky. She had no broken bones, no internal injuries, and her ankle would be fine. Her head injury would be fine, too, in time. She'd just need to time to let herself heal before she went back to chasing criminals. She would have some painful bruises.

Denise stood outside Tara's room, not wanting to go in and risk waking her. Lilly had gone to the bathroom to get herself cleaned up. She'd spent a good portion of the night crying in the bathroom, and Denise felt sorry for her. It wasn't a good day for her, or for Tara, or the residence of the apartment complex. There were no survivors. Well, no human survivors. A couple cats were found alive, a dog with a broken leg, and a bird. Those four animals, two kids and Tara were the only ones to survive.

She was so relieved. She wasn't one to bite her nails or pace. She'd normally sit and go over every possible way things could turn to shit. This time she couldn't go there. She didn't want to consider what could happen if Tara didn't wake up, if she wasn't okay. She felt sick at the thought, and she didn't want to go back there. Twice she'd seen Tara on a hospital bed, and she hoped she didn't have to see her on another for a long time. At least not for a month. A whole month where only a band-aid would be needed for her injury, not a hospital and scans. God.

"She's all right." Rosita approached Denise.

"I know." She briefly glanced over at her. "Are you heading out?"

"Yeah. Lerner's gonna swing by and pick me up now that Tara's okay."

"How are the kids? Zane and Abby?"

"Abby's good. Her cuts were tended to and bandaged. As for Zane... Well, when the bomb went off, it jolted their elevator, and he banged his head pretty bad. They have in a coma for now, to reduce swelling, but he should fine. They're hopeful."

Denise nodded. "That's good."

"Better than good." She cleared her throat. "Lilly's going to stay, but I told her I'd come and get her for lunch. You know, get her home, fed, cleaned up. I want to make sure she's all right."

"That's a good idea. She's a bit unhinged right now."

"I know. Uh, do you want a ride home?

"I think I'll stay for a little longer. I don't have anywhere else to be. Dennis can take care of himself a little while."

Rosita smiled. "You think Spencer's in love with me, huh?"

"I don't _think._ It's easy to tell." She wondered where this was coming given their previous topic.

"Oh, is it?" She nearly laughed. "Well, I'm sorry, Denise, but no. And now I know you have no idea what love looks like."

"What are you talking about?" She took her eyes off of Tara for the first time since they began talking and met Rosita's eyes. "And I thought Tara had the head injury."

Rosita smirked. "It's nothing. Forget it. Long day." She backed up. "I'll see you later."

"Get there safely, all right?"

"I will." She paused. "And you can go inside, Denise. It's not illegal."

Denise started to reply but Rosita was gone. She sighed and shook her head, moving back from the window. She hesitated, arguing with herself, but ultimately she walked inside. She was careful to ease the door shut, not wanting the noise of it to wake Tara, and she ran her eyes over the raven-haired woman lying on the bed. She sat down, not speaking a word, not wanting to wake her up, and she contemplated holding her hand. Lilly had, but again she didn't want to wake her up. She looked bad enough, and sleep wouldn't help, but at least she wasn't in pain right now. She might be if Denise accidentally woke her. She didn't want to take that risk.

"Hey, stranger."

Denise jumped at the sound of her raspy voice. "Tara."

She gave a feeble smile. "So it _is_ you." She hadn't opened her eyes.

"You were guessing?"

"Lilly kept crying, and it was too quiet now. Rosita already came to see me, told me she was going to work the Turner case, and how the kids were. I know Sasha and Michonne and Dawn are holding down the fort, so that really only leaves you." She opened her eyes and found Denise's face. "You don't look so good."

"You're one to talk."

"I have an excuse. What's yours?" Tara searched her eyes, observing the worry and the sheen of moisture in her eyes, and she reached over and clasped her hand. "I'm really okay, Denise. Or I'll be okay."

She dropped her eyes to the mattress, to where Tara's hand held hers, and she slowly slipped her fingers through Tara's, squeezing tight, and Denise smiled at her. "I know."


	20. Ten Years A Stalker

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

Lilly returned to Tara's room once she felt like a person again and not a ball of tears. She found Tara was awake, a small smile on her lips, and Denise was with her. She almost went inside, but she noticed something she hadn't seen in her sister in a long while. It made sense now why she and Holly hadn't clicked. Tara already had her sights set on a different blonde.

She decided to leave them be and go help track down Meghan. She didn't want to have to tell Tara her niece was missing after what she just endured. She'd find her. Meghan wouldn't have just run away, and whatever Michonne was afraid to tell her wouldn't have happened to her. She was smart. She was the granddaughter of a cop, the niece of a cop, and she knew what to look out for. Dad used to remind her of the types of people to avoid, and she had pepper spray in her purse. She would be okay.

Tara glanced over to the door, thinking she saw Lilly, but nobody was there.

"What?" Denise followed her gaze. "Is it Lilly?"

"No. No, it's nobody." She cleared her throat. "So, did you lose your phone? Or were you avoiding me?"

"Neither." She shook her head. "My brother broke his leg, and that's why I left our lunch so quickly. He—he's reckless, even a little stupid, and he doesn't think things through. He got into a motorcycle accident, broke his leg, and I'm his emergency contact. I was with the doctor when you first called, and I turned my phone off so he could finish explaining the break. After that, I let Dennis borrow my phone to play games. Then I think he lost it."

She nodded.

"I meant to call you back, but I got busy with trying to take care of Dennis and my patients. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you weren't avoiding me."

"I wouldn't want to avoid you," Denise admitted, stroking her thumb tenderly over Tara's bruised and cut up knuckles. "Does this hurt?"

"No."

"What did you want to tell me? When you were calling?"

"We found Sophia. We brought her home with a clean bill of health, and the doer, Abraham Ford, will spend the rest of his days behind bars."

"That's great, Tara."

"It is. We even managed to persuade him to tell us the location of the other girls' bodies, the ones we couldn't find. Their families have all been notified." She smiled a little. "I had plans to attend the funerals, but I don't know if that's possible in my current state."

"Well, if you're able, I'd like to go with you, pay my respects to the families."

"You followed the case?"

"I think most of New York has followed that case since the first abduction, but yes. Rosita used to talk to me about it. It was a stressful case, even before it was hers, and she was pregnant. She needed somewhere to unload and to work the case off the record. Apparently that place was my office."

"Who can resist it? The coffee and oatmeal smell feels just like home."

"Well, we can't all afford to work in an office that smells like printer ink and stale coffee."

"I know. We at the NYPD are so lucky for our own scent."

She chuckled. "It's good to see you're feeling better, or at least all right enough to be sarcastic."

"You can pretty much count on me always having room in my life for sarcasm. My dying words will probably be sarcastic."

"Probably?"

"Okay, they will be." She grinned

Denise shifted in her seat and met her eyes. "How are you feeling, Tara? Jokes and sarcasm aside."

"I feel like I've been hit by a ton of bricks. My head is killing me." She moistened her lips. "It's always my head. What the hell's that about?"

"I said no sarcasm!"

"Good, because I was being serious." She smirked. "It's always the head. Maybe I should I wear a helmet on the job."

"Maybe."

Tara grew quiet and looked at the ceiling, and Denise studied her, wondering what she was thinking. The silence lingered, and it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable, but there was something strange about it. Denise couldn't put her finger on it, but she had a feeling something was wrong. Something was definitely eating at Tara, but she wasn't sure what. It wasn't her injures, but she could be in pain.

"Do you want me to find a nurse?" Denise softly inquired.

"No, I'm okay right now." She still hadn't meet Denise's eyes. "I'm just wondering something."

Denise waited for Tara to elaborate, but when she didn't, Denise prompted her with, "Penny for your thoughts?"

"When this case is over and I'm not medicated or in a hospital bed, I want to have dinner." She rolled her head to the side. "I need to talk to you, and I'd rather not do it when I'm wearing a blue and white hospital gown and look like I went through a meat grinder."

Denise gently smiled, reaching over to move Tara's hair from her face. "You look just fine, Tara. I think it's the first time I've seen you with your hair down."

"Dad said I look more like my mom with my hair down, so I kept it short and tied back."

"Your mother must have been very beautiful." She gingerly stroked her fingertips across Tara's cheek, drawing her hand back.

"I wouldn't know," Tara spoke through the tingling feeling spreading across her skin where Denise's fingers had been, "but thank you."

They spoke for a while longer, the nurse came to check on Tara, and Denise got a minute to herself, catching the time. She winced. It was nearly noon, and she hadn't call or had Besty check in on Dennis. She would have to do that soon. In a couple minutes soon. He wasn't the type of person who did hungry well, and he wouldn't walk all that great with the cast and crutches and all. She'd have to go home, feed him and make sure he took his medicine.

Denise looked in as the nurse softly reprimanded Tara on not calling her for her pain, and Denise watched her give Tara a sedative. She waited until the nurse was gone to talk to Tara, who was growing sleepy.

"I have to go check on Dennis, but I'll come by later, okay?"

"Okay." Her eyelids drooped.

"Goodbye." She moved the hair from her face once again and grasped her hand for a moment. "Sleep well, Tara."

– – –

"Have you found anything?" Lilly was pulled aside by Rosita, watching Sasha and Michonne entering the interview room, and she spotted Noah. She narrowed her eyes and frowned. "What's Noah doing here? I thought he was on leave due to his injury."

"He came to lend a hand on Meghan's case."

"Case?" Lilly paled. "C—case? My—my daughter is a case now?"

Rosita mentally kicked herself. "Well, it has been a day since you last saw her, and we can't locate her. We haven't officially made this a case, but we will. And we will find her."

"God." She sank down into the seat beside her. "This isn't happening."

"I'm sure she'll turn up soon." Rosita set a hand on her shoulder. "We have people out looking for her, and Lerner's digging out her old contacts to see if they know anything that could help. She's one of ours, and we'll bring her home."

"I—I can't be here right now."

"That's okay. Go by with Tara. I'll call you the second we have news." Rosita frowned at how Lilly shot out of here faster than a bullet, and she turned to Noah. "Anything?"

"No." He covered the mouthpiece. "I've checked all the hospitals, and I'm calling the other police stations, giving her description, but so far nothing."

"Damn it."

"I know a few places from my undercover days. I can go there, talk to my old contacts."

"You're in no shape to do field work."

"She's fourteen years old, Rosita. She's my best friend's niece. She's my family. The only way you're stopping me is if you break my legs."

"Take Lerner with you. She ought to be back soon, and I'd feel better knowing you have backup."

"Yes, ma'am."

Rosita headed to Observation to see how the interview with the husband was going. The man was likely irked from it being delayed, but she found him in more of a panic state than anything. She listened in as Michonne and Sasha questioned him.

"Have you seen Melanie since she filed for divorce?"

"I heard about what happened at her brother's apartment complex. I—is she okay? I mean, could I see her? Is—is she here?"

"We'll be asking the questions, sir." Michonne locked her gaze on him. "Have you seen Melanie since she filed for divorce?"

"No. No, I haven't. We—we talk through phone conversations only. You can check my cell phone records. I have nothing to hide."

Sasha didn't get the disgruntled husband feel off his man. He seemed more like a man deeply in love and deeply concerned with his soon-to-be ex-wife's well-being. She didn't understand that at all. Melanie claimed it was a bad divorced, that their relationship had run its course, and she wanted out. Well, it could have been the bomb. You wouldn't expect your soon-to-be ex-wife to almost become toast. "Would you say the divorce was a mutual decision?"

"Yes. We both just woke up and realized our relationship had run its course. We—we uh, weren't compatible, I suppose. It happens."

Michonne wasn't buying it. "You both wanted this?"

"Yes. Both." He nodded vigorously. "I suggested it, but she filed."

"Are you all right, sir?" Sasha noticed how sweaty he was. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, no. I'm all right. I just... Is Melanie okay?"

"We'll be right back." Michonne motioned for Sasha to follow, and they exited the interview room. "Did you see that?"

"Yeah. He's nervous, but not about the interview or us." Sasha shook her head. "He really wants to know how Melanie is."

"Do you think he set this up? Maybe he wanted her killed. He wouldn't have to deal with the divorce, the court costs, possibly paying her money and half of his things."

"It doesn't feel that way. It feels like... Well, it feels almost like—"

"A concerned husband," Rosita finished, walking over to them. "He's still wearing his ring, and so does Melanie."

"If this was a bad divorce, she would have thrown that ring into the nearest trash can." Michonne crossed her arms. "Or she would have sold it."

"So, there's more to this story. That's obvious." Sasha pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. "He won't tell us anything until he sees Melanie."

"Let's bring her in," Rosita ordered. "We'll be in the room with them just in case, and maybe we can get the whole story out of them."

"I'll check on how Noah's doing." Sasha handed the file to Michonne. "And maybe get some food in here, because I'm starving."

Michonne dropped the file on her desk and stepped out to pick up Melanie, Rosita kept an eye on their possible perp, and Sasha looked in on Noah. She could see he was worried, like all of them. They were up to their eyes in concern, and it was split in so many directions. They had to catch a murder, ensure Meghan wasn't missing, and if she was, put out an Amber Alert and bring her home as soon as possible, and they had to hope the results of Tara's scans came back with no serious issues. Not to mention Lilly, who's mental state must be a train wreck.

––

"Are you sure? She could—she could gotten in through the window. They used to sneak out that way when they were younger." Lilly could hear how pathetic and desperate she sounded, but she had nothing else. Nothing else. "Thank you for checking. I appreciate it."

A knock on the door drew her attention, she hung up and opened it, but there was only Jeanette. She came to check on her, see if Meghan had come home yet, and it was a depressing visit that nearly drove Lilly to tears. Jeanette had made her a casserole, one of many Lilly would receive, she subconsciously suspected, and Lilly thanked her. She didn't have it in her to say she hadn't eaten since she found out what was happening to Tara in the apartment building. She would leave it in the fridge for Meghan. Meghan loved Jeanette's casserole, and she'd be home soon. She would be. She had to be.

Lilly saw her out and was tempted to call someone—anyone—at this point. She knew Amy had to work tonight, and she knew she was probably resting up. She didn't want to wake her. That meant she had no one else to call. She didn't have many friends outside of work and Meghan's friends' parents. She'd been talking to them all morning and all afternoon, and she didn't want to talk them again. There was no one else.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. There was Caesar, but she didn't want to unload this mess onto him. He was practically a stranger. He had his own life and bar to run, and if she went down there, she'd only wind up making an ass of herself after drinking enough to possibly kill her. She didn't have Tara to come and pick her drunken ass up off the floor, and she had to stay sober. She had to find her daughter. Somehow, some way, she would find her and bring her home and punish the shit out of her if she left one her own. Or maybe kill the fucker who took her if she was kidnapped.

She curled up on the couch and inhaled deeply to calm herself. She knew it wasn't working when tears began to stream down her cheeks.

––

"All right. We have Melanie." Rosita stepped closer to Mr. Cohen. "She's right outside."

"She's okay?" He exhaled and sagged with utter relief. "Could I see her? Please? I'll tell you anything you want to know, just—please, let me see her."

Rosita opened the door, Melanie rushed in, and Ezra wrapped his arms around her. Michonne closed the door behind her, watching the couple comfort each other, Melanie sobbing about her brother and how it had to be him. Rosita and Michonne exchanged a glance at that, Ezra hushed her softly, but it didn't console her. The woman did only just lose her brother in the worst possible way. Rosita had seen tragedy bring couples back together, but this didn't feel like that. These two weren't separated of their own choosing, so this third person was their doer. She was sure of it.

Once Melanie had calmed down, they were ready to speak. They sat together, fingers intertwined tightly, holding each other, and Michonne was prepared to hear their story, because honestly it was going to be a doozy.

"Do you know who could have done this to your brother?" Rosita asked the couple.

"Yeah," Ezra answered. "We do. We have one person in mind."

"Who would that be?" Michonne clicked her pen to write down the name.

"We don't know him." Melanie gripped her husband's hand. "In a way, we do, but nothing that could help us or your case."

"A stalker?" Rosita's brows rose. "How long has he been following you?"

"About...ten years ago, I came home and found a picture in my mailbox," Melanie began. "It was one of me at my favorite coffee shop. I thought it was a prank by one of my friends at first. They would do something like that, but when I found another picture of me at lunch taped to the door, I thought it was a little weird. I called my friends, but none of them did it."

"So, you just received pictures?"

"At first. For about two months, but I didn't do anything about it." She swallowed and cleared her throat. "Then after half a year, I thought it'd be enough to get the police's attention, but it wasn't. It wasn't enough I was being stalked everywhere, but I had no proof of this person or proof of them being violent or planning to harm me.

"Then about a year into being stalked, I joined a gym. I got a personal trainer to help me get into shape, and I found a pile of pictures of me and him dumped on my doorstep. We were just working out, but...uh, later that night I found out he'd been attacked. He was left for dead with a broken jaw, a busted up knee, and he was...in a coma for months. He almost died."

"The police didn't help you?" Michonne frowned.

"They said they couldn't connect the two events, as this person staged it as a mugging." She rolled her eyes. "They dismissed it as a coincidence."

"Has this stalker tried to attack you?" Rosita looked at the husband.

"We moved out here when we were engaged, and it was fine." Ezra soothed his wife. "For years, it was fine, but then one day I get a letter. It says to leave my wife, and if I don't, I'll be killed and so will she. I thought it was a sick joke, but just last week someone caught me on my run and threatened to kill me if I didn't leave her. I could feel the gun against my neck, and... I couldn't let anything happen to her, so we decided to go through with filing. We'd hoped it'd be enough to pacify him, but I guess it wasn't."

"Why didn't you report this incident?" Michonne straightened in her seat.

"Like you would have done anything to help us," he weakly retorted. "Ten years, and all cops have done is help that son of a bitch terrorize us."

"Do you know if this is a man or woman?" Rosita brushed by his comment.

"It's a man." Melanie moved hair from her face. "He's sent a few pictures of his body to me too, mostly arms and chest."

"I'd like to see those pictures. Do you have them?"

"No, not anymore. I moved all of my things to my brother's, and you know what happened there."

Rosita nodded. "I think it'd be safer if you stay here until we find a place for you two."

"Will you finally get this man?" Ezra searched her eyes.

"We'll do our best."

Michonne parted as Rosita made arranges for the Cohens, Noah was shaking his head at the phone, and Sasha was looking pissed and worried at the same time. She really didn't want to ask what else had gone wrong, but she'd have to. Of course she had to.

"What's going on?"

"There hasn't been any sighting of Meghan." Noah sighed. "And Lerner found her hoodie a block from her apartment in the trash."

"When was that?"

"An hour ago. She's on her way back to get me. We're going to have to dig up our old contacts, see if there's been any movement of young girls in the area." He stood up. "I hope not, but it's all we have. She didn't leave a trace behind."

"If you need more contacts, call Rick," Michonne suggested. "He knows a lot of undercover officers, and it might put them in danger, but a kid's life could be on the line."

He nodded. "I'll use it as a last resort." He picked up his phone as it ringed, signaling him that Dawn was there. He prepared to head out.

"How'd it go in there?" Sasha nodded her chin toward the interview room.

"It's a stalker. An overly jealous, dangerous stalker." She rehashed what Ezra and Melanie had told her and Rosita. "I hate stalker cases. They have to be close to snapping before we can get to them, and I don't want to put those two in harm's way. They've had it rough enough."

"I know what you mean." Sasha pushed off the desk. "Let's wrap this up as soon as possible."

Michonne spotted a delivery boy. "You ordered pizza?"

"What? No, I already had lunch. Me and Noah had sandwiches from that weird not quite Italian place down the street. Why?"

"Because there's a pizza guy here."

"Mommy!"

They turned at the sound of little Alejándro's voice, Spencer was behind him, dragging his feet with embarrassment as his son yelled at practically the top of his lungs to get Rosita's attention, and Rosita slightly whined. She loved him, but she was in the middle of instructing a uniform to take the Cohens to the safe house. Now she had a five-year-old yanking on her sleeve. He wouldn't stop either. He wanted her attention, and he would get it, one way or another. He was so much her son that it made her want to slap herself sometimes. Honestly, she needed to teach him not to do this, and she needed to remind Spencer to not randomly drop by her office. She'd had a stressful day, and she couldn't balance mothering and working right now.

"You can take it from here," she told the uniform then bent down to her son. "Give me one minute, okay? I need to speak with some people—"

"Gun!" Sasha shouted.

The pizza delivery boy pulled out a shotgun, and in his arms struggled Noah. He wasn't able to fight much, given he only had one arm he could use while the other still healed in a sling, and the shooter used that to his advantage. Rosita yanked Alejándro behind her, Sasha and Michonne didn't move a muscle, and Spencer reached for Rosita and Alejándro, nearly crushing the boy between their legs.

"All right, all right. Everybody just calm down." He chuckled, the shotgun against Noah's rib cage. "I want all of your firearms put inside here." He nodded his chin to the pizza box he'd thrown onto the desk moments ago.

"Nobody has to get hurt here," Michonne bargained, removing her gun from the desk drawer.

"You're absolutely right, but put your guns in the box." They did as he demanded, his eyes moved to across the room to Rosita and Spencer who hadn't moved. "Well, I know you have a gun, Captain Espinosa."

"It's in my office."

He sucked on his teeth and approached them, ensuring Noah's body covered him, the tip of his shotgun stabbing against Noah's rib, and Noah winced. "All right. Handcuff yourself to the door. You to the leg of the desk." His head turned to Sasha and Michonne. "You ladies too."

Sasha and Michonne lowered themselves down onto their knees, handcuffing themselves to the legs of their desks, tossing the keys away as he instructed, and Rosita pulled the handcuffs from her belt and tied Spencer to the desk, using the extra pair in the desk to cuff herself to the door to her doorknob to her office. She kept Alejándro behind her the entire time, and the man seem to notice him for the first time. He crouched down to be at the same height level as the boy, forcing Noah down too, holding the back of his neck.

"Aren't you just adorable?" He reached out to touch him, having set the shotgun down beside him, but Rosita moved Alejándro even further behind her, practically shoving him against the door. "Don't be so rude. Let the boy go."

"Not on your life."

"How about yours?" He picked up the shotgut and placed it on her stomach. "Let the boy go."

"Please, don't," Rosita spoke through clenched teeth. "Don't do this."

"Let. The. Boy. Go. I won't say it again." He traded the shotgun for a handgun, leaving it on the desk behind him, and he pointed it again to Noah who he still held like a stray animal by the back of the neck. "Unless you want me to paint the walls with his brains."

"Rosita." Spencer's voice was quaking, low, and he didn't know what she was going to do, but he hoped it didn't involve letting this man actually touch their child.

"You have to the count of three." He opened the desk drawer beside him, finding another set of handcuffs inside. "One."

"Rosita." Spencer couldn't stand up due to the way he was handcuffed to the desk.

Michonne and Sasha had seen everyone clear out of the building at the mention of gun, they hoped someone had called for help, because this situation was rapidly escalating. He wanted a five-year-old and they knew why. No one would take a shot at him if there was even a chance of hitting Alejándro. Noah was a good shield, but a little boy was in some ways better.

"Two."

Rosita could feel Spencer pleading with his eyes to not let this son of a bitch have their son, but she was trapped. If he wanted to snatch Alejándro, there was nothing she could do. She'd thrown her key away like the rest of them, and her reach wasn't far enough. She didn't have her gun, and she didn't a plan. She couldn't send her little boy over to that creep. She refused to do that. He wasn't going to touch him or use him as a shield. Everything in her body was screaming at her to protect Alejándro, but her training was telling her to comply to the demands of this asshole. Keep him happy, keep him calm, until help arrived. Her maternal instincts were louder than her police training, but Noah had a child too. A three-year-old whose father didn't deserve to be killed, and she didn't want her son to see that. She was trapped in every sense of the word.

She lowered herself down toward her son, pulling him into her arms and whispering in his ear, kissing his cheek. "Te quiero, mi amor." She cupped his cheek. "It'll be okay."

He looked at her and nodded.

"Rosita!" Spencer jerked forward to grab Alejándro's shirt when he walked toward the armed man, but he couldn't reach.

Rosita watched the man handcuff Noah to the filing cabinet, grabbing up Alejándro and holding him, the shotgun abandoned on the desk, but he awfully seemed fond of the handgun. She didn't know how in the hell he managed to get two guns in here. They had equipment and detectors. How in the hell did he manage to slip them inside?

"If you hurt him," Spencer warned.

"It's not wise to threaten a man with a gun," he shot back. "Just common sense, don't you think?"

"Please," Rosita whispered.

"I won't hurt anybody. Just tell me where Melanie is, and we'll be on our way."

It was him; the ten year stalker who nearly beat her personal trainer to death. Rosita's mouth dried out at the Cohens had told them about this man. This man who was holding her baby boy at gunpoint, and she felt tears burn in her eyes as she helplessly slumped against the door. There wasn't a thing she could do here. It was all in the hands of whoever was in charge of defusing the situation. She didn't know who that'd be, but she hoped they knew to be careful. If she lost her son today... God, she couldn't finish that thought.

Spencer saw the tears in Rosita's eyes, and he reached out with his free hand, and she grasped it tightly, instantly, and they prayed for a miracle.

"Okay," Michonne spoke to the man. "Okay, we'll—we'll get you Melanie."

"Good. Now that's what I like to hear."

"But you'll need a way out," Sasha informed him. "If you walk out of here, our guys will be on you in a hot second. You need a plan."

"Oh, I have one. I have many plans." He smiled darkly and gazed at the boy in his arms. "The first was to separate Melanie from that asshole Ezra. Once that was done, my brother dealt with her brother, and well, I couldn't have any lose ends, so the building and my brother's body had to go. Now here we are in the third part of my plan. The six of us, plus Melanie and Ezra. I can take out that bastard once and for all, and Melanie and I will leave here my way."

"And the boy?" Noah demanded. "What happens to the kid?"

"I dunno know yet. I didn't expect a little boy to be here, but now that he is and I'm holding him—well, he's just so darn cute." He moved curls from the boy's face. "I think I'll keep him. Kids are great, and Melanie's wanted kids for so long now."

Roista had to keep her tongue in check, gripping Spencer's hand even more, and he clenched his teeth. They were both in the same place mentally and emotionally. Their little boy was in the arms of a man with a gun, and there were circumstances they couldn't control. They were helpless, bound, forced to watch their child be lugged around as a human shield. He couldn't fully understand what was happening. He was a smart kid, and Rosita had talked to him about guns when he found hers one day wandering her apartment. He knew the dangers, but he was five years ago. This couldn't be happening. God, her baby.

"So, I'm guessing I can find Ezra and Melanie behind door number one?" He approached the interview rooms. "Or two?"

"You don't need the boy," Michonne reasoned. "And how will you get Melanie out of here with one arm?"

He smirked. "I've got a gun on the kid. I think she'll do anything I want—unless she doesn't share if I paint the walls red with his little five, six-year-old brain." He knocked on the door with the gun. "Melanie? You can come out now."

There was a pregnant pause, Rosita had stood up to peer over the desk, her eyes glued to her son, and she was trying to see how he was holding up. He was a tough little cookie, just like her. He might not cry or struggle, but he was a biter. She didn't know where he got it from, but he did bite now and then, but typically only if someone hurt him. She didn't want this fucker to touch her son for another second, but she prayed he didn't hurt him, because if he was no longer interested in Alejándro as part of his escape, Alejándro might not make it out of here alive.

Michonne was trying to lift the desk to free herself, but she wasn't strong enough. It felt like ten thousand tons, and she couldn't even lift with a legs. She was on the floor with only one free hand, but the freedom of her hand meant nothing. She couldn't reach anything, not even a stapler. She was just stuck trying to lift the desk just enough to slip the cuff out. She knew it was a shit plan, but a kid's life was on the line along with many others. She could always break her thumb to try and slip out of cuffs, but she'd rather not. If she thought Alejándro's life was about to be snuffed out, fuck it. She'd break it and then break this motherfucker.

Sasha was having the same problem, but she was focusing more for reaching her top drawer. She had a stun gun inside, and it might be sufficient to stop this asshole. She had to try. She wouldn't let anything happen to that little boy or that couple or any of her teammates. She had been through hell when she got the call that Noah had been shot, when Tara had been knocked out and then trapped in a burning and collapsing building, and she didn't like the ball being in someone else's court. She had to do something and soon. If they tried to get snipers on the rooftops, they wouldn't be able to see Alejándro. He was too small, the man's shoulders too broad, and they might hurt—or kill—the boy. That wasn't happening, not today, not ever. If she could just reach the damn gun!

Spencer couldn't see anything no matter how much he turned and struggled, and his wrist began to be rubbed raw. He didn't give a single shit if his wrist bleed or if he broke any bones; he just wanted to see what the fuck was happening with his son. He could tell by Rosita's eyes it wasn't anything serious, but he wanted to see. He wanted to observe and if anything happened to him—anything at all—he was going to do it tenfold to that gun-toting motherfucker!

Noah couldn't move much without the drawer creaking, and he didn't want this man to turn around. He wasn't sure what his plan was as he couldn't move his other arm very well. The wound was healing, but the way the bullet hit it, he'd need physical therapy, so there was no chance he'd be able to grab anything. He hated being powerless. He fucking hated it more than little Alejándro was being used like a shield. He was a little boy, and he thought of his own son. If Nathan and Beth were here, he didn't know what he'd do if he was as he was now: cuffed to a filing cabinet, arm wounded from a bullet. He could put himself in Spencer and Rosita's shoes, but he didn't want to.

"Melanie." He dragged the top of the gun back and forth across the door. "You have one minute to get out here, dear. Otherwise bodies start dropping."

Inside Melanie sobbed into her husband's arms, hoping that somehow, some way, they'd stop this, and she wouldn't have to go out there. She didn't want to see that man. She didn't want to talk to him or have him touch her. She didn't any of these officers to be in the path of danger. She just wanted this to be over. God, ten years of her life have been spent moving and praying he didn't find her, and now the big moment was here. She wanted it all to go away. God, why couldn't it all just go away?

"Do you want a count down?" He turned to the boy in his arms. "Can you count for her, little man? Do you know how to count down from sixty?"

Melanie looked at her husband at the mention of "little man", and she snuffled. There was a child out there? Or was this a ploy to lure her out? She didn't know. She didn't trust anything anymore, certainly not anything this stalker asshole had to say.

"He's—he's a little shy."

"Don't touch him!" Rosita hissed, terrified at how close the gun was to her son's face.

"What's the matter, Mom? Little Captain here doesn't like guns?"

"Please," Rosita spoke through clenched teeth, "he's five years old. Don't put that gun in his face."

"Five? My, my, what a big boy." He leaned toward the door and shouted, "Hey, Mel, you hear that? Little Man here is five years old. I think he wants to meet you too, so come on out. I won't wait anymore. I've waited long enough, so come out!"

Another prolonged pause, but the door to the interview room crept open and Melanie slipped out, trying her best to keep the door shut enough so Ezra couldn't been seen, and she saw he did have a little boy in his arms. Tears streamed faster down her cheeks at the sight of the gun so close to the little boy, and she hoped this didn't take a turn for the worst.

"And there she is." He stuffed the gun in his belt and touched her face, wiping away the tears, and she cringed. "I know he's in there, but right now I just want to look at you." He drank her in slowly, bringing his face in to even smell her, and goosebumps rose up on her skin.

Melanie tried to step away, but he slipped his arm around her, pulling her close, and she shuddered. She didn't know where to look, and she knew she should probably meet his gaze, but she couldn't look at this man. She couldn't for a second, so she looked a the little boy in his arms. He looked a lot like the detective who spoke with her, the same eyes, and she swallowed, trying to keep from crying.

"He's cute, isn't he?"

She steadied herself. "He's precious." She wanted to get him away from the man. She had to. "Could I—uh, could I hold him?"

"In a minute." He stroked her hair. "Trust me, you'll be able to hold him all you want once we're out of here."

She involuntarily whimpered.

"I just have one loose end to deal with." His eyes moved to the interview room door. "No one will come between us. No one." He threw the interview room door open, Ezra flew back against the wall in surprise, freezing at the sight of the gun, and he took aim.

"Close your eyes," Melanie told the boy, snuffling. "Close your eyes, okay?"

He nodded and closed his eyes.

Two bullets fired, Melanie screamed, Rosita screamed, and Michonne, Sasha, Noah and Spencer froze. His body fell to the floor, Melanie fell to her knees, and Ezra stared in horror, panting wildly as blood pooled from the head wound.

"No!" Rosita jerked against the door, seeing the stalker's body fall, but she couldn't see her son. She couldn't see him at all, and that meant Dawn couldn't either when she took the shot.

Dawn approached the man, kicking the gun away and checking his pluse, and Ezra scrambled over to his wife. Melanie buried her bloody face in his chest, bawling loudly, and he soothed her. Dawn rolled the body over and found Alejándro lying there with blood on his shirt.

"Oh, God, no." She dropped her gun and lifted his shirt.

"What?" Rosita shrieked. "What?! Is he okay?!"

She didn't see any entrance wounds on his little chest, and he was breathing. "Alejándro? Sweetie? Are you all right? Answer me."

His eyes opened. "I hit my head."

Rosita just about collapsed at the sound of his voice. "Take these cuffs off me right now."

Dawn dug out her keys and unlocked the captain, bending down to do Spencer and then moved to the next person in line.

"Baby." Rosita wrapped her arms around him, kissing the top of his head, and Spencer slammed into the them, squeezing them. "Oh, thank God."

Michonne checked on the boy just to calm her nerves.

"You okay?" Sasha looked over Noah.

"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm okay. You?"

"I'll be better when this damned day is over."

He grinned then turned to Lerner. "I thought this place locked down under a hostage situation. How'd you get in?"

"I was in the bathroom since you seemed to be taking forever, and when you didn't show, I came up. I figured out what happened." She met Rosita's eyes. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know he had your boy."

"It's okay. He's all right." She smiled. "Thank you."

"Just doing my job."

––

They took pictures of the bullpen, taking statements, Dawn turned over her gun and prepared for the routine procedure that followed a shooting, and Rosita changed into an old NYPD shirt, giving the sweatshirt to Alejándro, who wore it as a dress, but it was better than his bloody shirt. Rosita smiled and held Spencer's hand as Alejándro roamed around, going to Sasha and Michonne to show off his new shirt, and she rested her head on his stomach. She was done with this day, entirely wiped.

"Wanna know who our stalker was?" Sasha asked the group, having gotten his ID.

"Hell yes." Michonne sat on the steps by Spencer and Rosita.

"Gareth Hall. He's the brother of Alex Hall, whose body was found in the building. He was—well, in bits and pieces, but his head was left mostly undamaged, so they used his dental records to get an ID. He was shot twice in the back."

Rosita sighed. "So, he _did_ kill his own brother."

Melanie and Ezra were sitting in the back of an ambulance, a blanket wrapped around her, and the team gazed at them. They didn't know if they'd come back from this, but they were free. The price was a high one, and they could only hope it didn't haunt them too long.

"Well, it's official," Dawn commented, looking at her watch.

"What is?" Spencer groaned when Alejándro jumped onto his lap, not even giving him a second to prepare before plopping down, and he wrapped his free arm around the little hyper monster, kissing the top of his head.

"Meghan." She glanced at them. "She's officially missing as of now."

A beat.

"We need to tell Tara," Michonne stated. "Right now."

"I don't want to have this conversation," Sasha moaned. "I just want to go home and get a bath and forget this happened."

"Well, we can't." She rose. "One of ours has a missing niece. Since Lerner has to be investigated for the shoot, I'll talk Rick, see if he can dust off any of his old contacts. Why don't you and Noah follow up on his lead? I'll drop by the hospital to tell Tara the news."

"I can do," Rosita began.

"No." Michonne came off the steps. "You're going home. All three of you. Have dinner and get some rest. This one's on me."

– – –

"Don't you have patients?" Tara reached hand out to hold the cup of pudding Denise had insisted on feeding her, even though she hadn't broken her hands. "Or a life?"

"I'll make it up to them." She spooned out more pudding and held it out, Tara rolled her eyes and ate it. "Besides I'd rather be here." She tenderly gripped the hand around the pudding Tara was holding.

"Lucky me." She opened her mouth for more, and Denise chuckled, complying, accidentally smearing some on the side of her mouth.

"Oh, here." She leaned forward and wiped the chocolate pudding off the side of her mouth. She caught Tara's eyes and felt herself lean even more forward, but a knock on the door made her jerk away.

"Hey." It was Rick.

"Rick." Tara sat up.

"Hey, hey, easy."

"I'm okay enough to sit up. If I get dizzy, Denise is here. She's kind of like a doctor. She went to school for it."

"I didn't finish, and you shouldn't move so much." Denise wiped her finger on a napkin and set the pudding on the tray. "I'll give you guys a minute."

"No, stay put. I just came to bring you this." He handed her a bear and a card. "This is to make up for the last time. The boys signed the card, and Judy put her best sticker on it."

"Aww." She ran her eyes over it. "I love it. Thank them for me."

The door opened again before Rick could ask how she was feeling and assure her he would tell the kids, Michonne entered with a nod, and Denise and Tara exchanged a glance at how serious Michonne appeared. Tara set the card and bear on the table, reaching instinctively for Denise, and Rick stepped aside, knowing what was up. Tara didn't like that at all.

"What's going on?" Tara inquired, her heart racing, gripping Denise's hand firmly.

"It's Meghan," Michonne answered. "She's missing."


	21. Unable

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

"She's missing?" Tara echoed. "What do you mean...missing?"

"The school called to inform Lilly that Meghan hadn't shown up, and upon further investigation, it would appear Meghan's gone."

Tara's grip on Denise's hand increased, and Denise felt sick to her stomach. "How long has she been gone?"

"The morning we found Mark Turner's body." Michonne rubbed her hands together. "About two days now."

"Two days?" Tara paled. "She's just a kid, Michonne, and if she's missing, and it's been over forty-eight hours..."

"We might have a lead on how to track her down, but it's going to take time and planning. We have to be careful with this." She cut a glance to her husband, a look Tara didn't miss, and she crossed her arms. "We're doing everything—"

"What was that look?" Tara interjected. "The look you just shot Rick. What the hell was that?"

"It wasn't a look."

"It's a glance," Tara amended. "Now what the hell did it mean?"

Rick stepped forward. "It's my lead."

Air flew out of her lungs, any color left behind from the previous news fled, and she thought for a moment she was going to heave. She couldn't deal with this. She couldn't handle this news. She knew the kind of leads that came to Rick and his unit. She knew the kind of sick, twisted people he dealt with, people who turned sweet little girls into...

And Meghan might be with them. Her niece, her kid niece, might be with men who will persuade her to take drugs and do things she doesn't want to do, and when the sweet phase of luring her to them was over, they'd beat and threaten her into submission. If she defied or fought, they would just fighter harder. Tara had seen the pictures of the girls who still had spirit, still had fight, and she knew what it looked like to watch that spirit die. And now Meghan was one of those girls. They would try their damnedest to break her will, to make her feel obligated to do whatever they say. She would be used and abused and eventually either killed or thrown aside like trash. That world was dark and dangerous and no place for any child yet that's exactly what occupied it: children.

She didn't understand how this could have happened to her niece. She had warned Meghan about the risks of living in the city, and she knew better. She knew who to look out for. There was no way she wouldn't know the warning signs. Meghan wasn't the type of girl to do whatever a guy tells her simply because she had a crush on him. That wasn't who she was. She was tough, a good girl, and yes, she had slipped into the wild child phase some odd weeks back, but she'd straightened up. She knew what happened with Lilly, how she was born, and while they assured her she was a blessing from that mess, they made sure she also knew what Lilly did was stupid and could have gotten her killed. They—Dad, her, Lilly—stressed that, so why the hell did Meghan get swept up in this?

"What lead?" Tara strained through the dryness occupying her throat, meeting Rick's eyes. "Where do you...think she is? Or...who do you think has her?"

"It's a small group," he replied. "We've been tracking them for months now, and we're getting close. They're taking in girls like Meghan, so I'm positive they have her."

"What do they do to them?" Denise reluctantly questioned, not entirely certain she wanted an answer.

"From what we've gathered they lure the young girls in with gifts, sweet talk them into leaving their homes and fill them with drugs enough to keep them calm. They...instruct them on how to..." Rick dropped off at how pale Tara had become. "Uh, we found one of their girls they didn't want anymore. She was nearly dead when by the time the paramedics arrived, but they cleaned her system and were able to save her. She's been a great help."

"She can take you to Meghan?" The hope that filled each word poured out of Tara's chocolate eyes and stung Rick's heart.

"No." He rubbed the back of his neck. "She...was too drugged to remembered the location or the men, but...she's helped us identify the process of gathering the girls. She's trying her best to do more, but she's just a kid. They're professionals. They're hiding their tracks well."

"For now," Michonne added. "They've taken their last kid. We'll get Meghan, get the other girls and shut them down."

"When do they move the girls out?" Tara closed her eyes. "How long do we have until they're done instructing?"

"I don't know," Rick weakly answered, "but according to our informant...not long."

"Christ."

"It depends on how many girls they have, so it could take time."

Tara buried her face in her hands, trying to steady herself, and she sucked in a deep breath, reeling in her thoughts and her rage. She wasn't going to break down and cry or have a screaming fit at Rick for not finding these fuckers sooner. She wasn't going to waste the energy. She needed every ounce of it to kick the asses of the motherfuckers who kidnapped her niece.

"Tara?" Denise set a hand on her shoulder.

She raised her head. "When do we start?"

" _We've_ started since we discovered she was missing." Michonne placed her hands on her hips. "You're not on this case."

"What?" Tara erupted. "Why the fuck not?! She's my niece, Michonne!"

"Exactly. You're too close to this case, and trust me, I know what you're going through. If it was Judith, I'd raise hell. I'd bite Rosita's head off, but it's not...her decision." She sighed. "Rick's boss is handling the investigation, given the events leading up to her disappearance, and her physical appearance."

"That's bullshit!"

"You're in on shape to hunt anyone down," Rick threw out. "You need to recover, and until you're back at one hundred percent, you're not coming within thousand feet of this case. His words, not mine."

"Bastard," Tara hissed under her breath.

"We're working together to bring her home, so trust us to do just that." Rick's phone buzzed, and he dismissed himself with the promise of finding Meghan.

Tara met Michonne's gaze. "If you think I won't work this case, injured or not, you don't know me at all."

"I didn't say you couldn't work it," Michonne leaned forward, "you know, _off_ the record."

"You'll keep me informed?"

"I told you: if this was Judith, I'd raise hell. Might as well help you do it." She smirked. "I'll check in on you tomorrow. Get some rest. The sooner you're healed, the sooner you can hit the streets and help us bring those girls home."

"Thank you."

"She's one of ours, and we won't rest until she's back home." Michonne's gaze moved to Denise. "You take care of her, okay?"

Denise smiled. "I will."

"I'll see you in the morning."

Tara shook her head slightly and tried to climb out of the bed once Michonne was out of sight, but Denise shot up and grasped her arm, preventing her from moving. She knew it wasn't going to gain her anything, but she had to try.

"Don't."

"I need to talk to Lilly. I need to call her and see how she is. Her daughter is missing." Tara met her eyes. "Please?"

"You can call her in a bit. It's late. She's probably not even home."

"She has a cell phone." She huffed. "But fine. I'll wait."

"You need to rest. I can check on her. It might do her better to see someone than receive a phone call."

"You'd do that?"

"Well, I have to check on my brother, and it's not on the way, but yes." Tara chuckled. "For you, I'd do it, no matter how out of the way it was."

Tara smiled. "Thank you."

"Thank me by getting some sleep."

"I'll try, but I doubt I'll get any rest tonight."

"Trying is all I can ask for at this point."

"All right. Well, good night. I'll see you in ten minutes when I can't fall asleep."

"I'll be here."

– – –

At the repetitive and thunderous knocking on her front door, Lilly uncurled herself from the couch and approached it, peeking through the peep hole, seeing a familiar face on the other side. She wiped at her eyes, smoothing her hair down, and she tried not to look like she'd cried herself into exhaustion.

She pulled the door open and showed him inside. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw the Amber Alert on the news this morning." Caesar looked her over. "You haven't heard anything?"

"No." She kept her phone close, but it hadn't buzzed or rang once. She was crying pretty hard, but she would have heard it. She checked her messages before she passed out, and there was nothing new there.

"Do you know what happened?"

"They have a lead, but...it's not exactly good news." She motioned for him to have a seat, and she coiled back up on the couch. "God, I don't know how to handle this, or if I'm handling it at all, you know? It feels like a dream. I mean, how can any of this be real? Be happening to me? To her?"

"I'm sorry this happened." He peeked at her. "I know they'll find her. She's a cop's niece. They'll wear themselves thin to bring her home safe and sound."

"I want to hope so, but I know how it works. I know the numbers, and I know what's out there. Meghan's gotten wrapped in up a terrible web that she might not be able to get out of, that all the cops in the city might not be able to get her out of, and it...paralyzes me. She's my daughter, and she's out there with God knows who. I can't even imagine what they're doing to her right now." Tears sprung up in her eyes, and she shook her head. "What are they doing to my little girl right now?"

He reached over and clasped her hand. "She's a tough kid. To have you as a mom and Tara as an aunt, there's no way she isn't tough."

"It doesn't matter how strong she is," Lilly wheezed. "She's a kid, and they targeted her for that exact reason. I don't even want to think about what they'll do to her if she fights, or if she says or does the wrong thing. Honestly, they could just kill her. It's not like there aren't other young girls in the city."

"You can't think like that." He began to click the pieces into place with what she'd just divulged, and his stomach churned.

"Why can't I? I know how it works, Caesar. I mean...it's my fault this even happened." He shook his head at her. "No, it is. I worked too much. I left her vulnerable to those people, and they didn't waste a second getting to her. If I had been home, if I had been around more, she wouldn't have been exposed to them. She wouldn't have been an easy target. She wouldn't have...fallen prey to their tactics. She would have been at home with me, studying or something."

"This is absolutely not your fault, Lilly. It could have happened to anybody anywhere. It's a cruel stroke of fate that it was Meghan, and that's all. They took Meghan, and it had nothing to do with you or how presence or absence you were in her life. They chose her, and they would have gotten her one way or another." He met her eyes. "This wasn't you, all right? It was a group of sick bastards who will weep what they sew."

"I haven't even told Tara," she whispered after a moment of silence. "And I'm scared to tell her. I don't want her to blame me. I already do, and I don't think I can take her blaming me on top of that."

"She wouldn't blame you. She knows what I know: a bunch of creeps preyed on girls in Meghan's age bracket, they found a way to isolate her, drew her in and snatched her. It had nothing to do with you. It had nothing to do with Meghan beyond the fact that she's fourteen and met their physical standards. It's what groups like that do, and once they have their sights set on someone, they'll go for unless the risk is too high."

"So, I should have—"

"You couldn't have known to do anything," he softly interrupted. "I know it doesn't seem like it's anyone's fault but yours, but I assure you it's not. There is no blame to be laid at your feet. It's all on them, and Meghan will be okay. They wouldn't risk...damaging the product."

She whimpered at that word and buried her face in her hand. "This can't be happening."

"I don't know how long it'll be until Meghan's back home, but I'm here for you, Lilly, day or night, okay? I know—I can imagine what...you must be going through, and I'm here."

She nodded. "Thank you."

He offered a small smile, remembering what it was like for him, and he hoped it didn't have the same conclusion. He didn't want to see another child be buried.

– – –

"You can't look for Meghan," Denise remarked, "but we can attend the funerals of Abraham's victims. I know it's not the same, but...you wanted to attend them."

"I could be attending Meghan's next, so why not get some practice in?" she bitterly murmured.

"You know Michonne and Rick won't let that happen. They're busting their asses trying to find her trail."

"I should be with them. I know my niece better than they do—"

"Tara, it's not about knowing Meghan anymore. It's about knowing the minds and thinking of the men who took her. It's about putting themselves in their shoes and figuring out where and how they're transporting these girls and what they intend to do with them. Rick's done this job for years. He'll find her. Just give him time."

"She might not have time, Denise!" Tara snapped. "They could have drugged her up enough to slip her out of the city, out of the States. How are we going to track them when we have no clue who they are or where their business is? We don't know anything about them. Rick's been looking for how long now? And what has he got to show for it?"

"I know this is brutal, the worst kind of torment, but you need to stop. Rick and his unit have dedicated their lives to this, and they're doing this to bring Meghan home and the others girl they might have with her. I know sitting around and waiting for a clean bill of health isn't fair or what you want, but it's not about you, Tara. It's about Meghan and the other girls. They have an entire unit trying to find them, so why don't you just focus on yourself? There's not much you can do to help Meghan right now, on or off the record."

She sighed softly.

"I brought you some clothes from home. The super let me in when I explained the situation." She set a pair of black slacks and a grey blouse with a black blazer on the foot of the bed. "I'll be outside if you need help or get dizzy."

She ran a hand over her jaw and picked up the blouse. "Thank you, Denise, and I'm sorry I'm being a bitch."

"Your niece is missing." She reached out and tenderly smoothed down loose raven locks. "I understand your frustration with this situation, and I understand why you're being bitchy."

"Still. I appreciate it."

Denise's hand slid down to cup her cheek, and Tara leaned into the touch. "You should get changed. Lana Martinez's funeral's at one."

Denise stepped outside, Tara changed out of the hospital gown and into the clothes, working around the slight dizziness that nearly overtook her. She brushed a comb carefully through her hair, tied her shoes and stepped out into the hall. Denise smiled affectionately at her.

Tara wasn't sure she wanted to do this, sit in church after church, hearing and seeing the parents of long dead young girls mourn their child, but she had to do this. She had to be there for those little girls, for their parents, for her own sake. She had to give her condolences and remember who these girls were before they were Abraham's victims. There was so much to each child, and she didn't want that to be shoved away. She didn't want these girls to remembered for being kidnapped and killed. She wanted them to remembered for being the special individuals that they were. So she was going.

Lana's funeral had been beautiful, her eulogy had been filled with all of her achievements in life and all of her passions and dreams, and Caesar had tearfully delivered it. There wasn't a dry eye in the house, but instead of only sorrow and despair, there was warmth and hope. Tara didn't know how in the world he managed that, but it was there clear as day, and it eased the dread and consternation in her chest. She knew it took a lot of strength to endure and survive what Caesar had been through, and to come out as well as he had must have nearly killed him. Tara knew Lilly would do the same in her own way, but she hoped, possibly even against hope, that she didn't have to.

Denise laced her fingers through Tara's, squeezing tight as the white casket was lowered into the ground, and Tara suddenly couldn't breath in anymore. She had been to plenty of funerals in her line of work yet never had she felt this way. She knew it must be because Lana and Meghan weren't too far off in age. They were both little girls with big dreams who got swept up into someone else's bullshit. Lana hadn't survived, and there was no evidence to prove that Meghan was still alive. They had nothing to go off of either really. Just a hunch, a possibly fruitless lead.

Tara swallowed around the lump in her throat and made a decision there among the tomb stones and the weeping family. She wouldn't come back here to bury her niece. She wouldn't stand here with a mourning and devastated Lilly as they lowered her daughter's casket into the ground. She wouldn't stand and let the other girls who had been caught up in the same web as Meghan be buried. If she had to trade every last drop of her life to keep this vow, she would. She was going to bring her niece home, hell and high water be damned, and she was going to finally— _finally_ —return innocent girls back to their families. She would see tears of joy and relief, not agony and endless remorse. That was a goddamn promise.


	22. Meghan

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

The club was filled with the heat of dancing bodies, multicolored lights flashed crazily, and everyone could lose themselves here. The pulse—the life—that filled this place erased the screaming responsibilities of their every day lives, and nothing at all mattered. All negativity was wiped out among the techno and the shots and the drugs.

Despite the mass of people, they somehow had plenty of room, lost entirely in their own world. He held her hips, her back flat against his chest, leather against cloth, and he chuckled at her ear. He caught her upraised arm, both of swaying to the beat of the music, and he placed a kiss to what was now his. He spun around, her eyes closed, and he drew her near, placing a tablet on the tip of his tongue before kissing her.

He chuckled and pulled back, brushing his thumb over her lips, and he led her through the crowd to get her a drink. She was unsteady on her feet, and she giggled when she almost tripped. He found their seats and eased her down onto his lap, his arm around her waist, and she rested her head on his shoulder, smiling at the effect of the drugs coursing through her system. She could feel the music in her blood and tasted the pulse of it in her mouth. It was so beautiful. It was practically life itself, all shiny and amazing. She wanted to stay here forever. Nothing else should be allowed to exist.

"Open your mouth," he instructed, and she did, still not bothering to open her eyes. He gently poured the contents of the drink into her mouth, halting to allow her to swallow, and he caught a trail of liquid that slid down her chin. He kissed her once more, the sweetness of her burning against the alcohol, and he nudged his nose against hers. "You all right?"

"I'm perfect," she responded.

"Damn straight you are." He stroked her cheek and feathered a kiss to her nose, smiling darkly to himself. "You ready to go back out there?"

Her eyes flickered open, eyes dilated to a great such extent that the green was practically invisible, and she flashed him a dazzling grin. "Of course."

"Come here then." He rose, dragging her along with him, and he slid his arm around her waist. He caught a glimpse of a hooded figure in the crowd as they weaved their way through, but he brushed it off. He clasped her hands and chuckled at the sight of her, whispering in her ear softly, and she shuddered at his words. It wasn't time yet, but it would be soon. For now, he owed her another dance. Several dances, in fact.

– – –

Tara tapped her pen against her desk, staring at the report she was meant to fill out, but her thoughts were on the fact that her niece was still missing. It'd been an entire week, and they'd discovered neither hide or hair of the young teenager. Tara had feelers out, but they had fucking nothing. A whole goddamn week, and nada. It was beyond infuriating. She spent her nights wandering the streets, speaking with the prostitutes and old contacts and trying anything to pry information out of them. They never provided useful information. She spent her days drowning alive in stress and jumping when her phone rang because it could be one of her own reporting Meghan's homicide, or it could be another cop saying they'd found her bloodied and beaten and assaulted in an alley. She couldn't handle the stress, and she felt bad for how much she was leaning on Denise. She couldn't turn to Lilly. She could barely look at her, knowing it was _her_ people that were failing Lilly right now, and she couldn't stomach the look in Lilly's eyes.

"Tara." Rosita stepped out of her office, seeing the concern and vexation on her face. "Go home."

"No." She finished the report, not even sure what in hell she wrote, and she reached for another.

"That wasn't a request." She slammed her hand down on the paper Tara began to fill out. "It's an order. Two weeks mandatory leave, effective immediately."

"No, no, please." Tara shot up, her heart sinking to her knees. "Don't do this. I'll—I'll be better. I just—I can't sit around and do nothing. Please, please don't ask me to do that."

"Immediately." She disappeared inside her office.

"Rosita. Rosita, wait." She hurried around her desk to catch her, but Rosita shut the door and closed the blinds. Tara's hand smacked against the glass, and she dropped her hand. "Goddamn it."

Sasha set a hand on her shoulder, but Tara jerked away and backed out of the office, disregarding her coat and colleagues who called to her, who reached out to her. "Damn it." Sasha shook her head. "I knew she wouldn't take it well, but..."

"Give her time." Michonne stirred her coffee. "She can look for Meghan in this time, and she can get her head on straight. We can stop by her place with dinner tonight. If she won't have us, she won't have us."

"Think this'll do any good?" Sasha leaned back on her left leg.

"It can't damage her any further," was all Michonne had to say.

Inside her office, Rosita sat on the floor, legs pulled up to her chest, and she kept replaying the last three minutes. She had never seen Tara look so distraught and pleading before. She never wanted to do it, but this...Meghan was affecting her police work. She had no choice. It was that or fire her. Tara was a damn good detective, and she would be back on her feet soon. With this spare time, she could begin a more thorough search for Meghan.

Mother of God. Rosita rubbed her temples. If this were her baby, this job be damned. She would be out every second looking for him. Spencer would have to chain her in a chair, because she couldn't stop. Not until he was back in her arms. Rosita hung her head and began to pray—for Tara, for Lilly, for the lost little girl. _Bring her home safely. Please._

– – –

Tara tore into Denise's office like a fire storm, not even checking to see if she was with anybody, and she spoke so quickly, the torrent of words that left her tongue were like razors, attacking both Rosita and the chain of command that forced her to push Tara onto leave. She paced in a small circle, her language colorful, and she honestly didn't know if Denise was in the room or not. She couldn't see anything but the floor as she tried to keep the vile glare from being directed at anyone.

"Those motherfuckers are forcing me not only off the case we're working but off my job! It's utter bullshit! I'm a good cop. I've done everything the way I was supposed to, but suddenly when my niece is missing, I'm considered—what? Unstable? Unhinged? What the fuck is that even about?" She turned to find the blonde staring at her with wide, surprised eyes, and Tara was panting, her rant coming to a close. "It's bullshit, Denise."

"Okay." She set her pen down. "But to be honest, I only heard part of that. You were speaking really fast and a lot of it was cuss words, so...yeah."

"They put me on leave. For two weeks."

"What?" She rose out of her seat. "Why?"

"I don't know. Rosita wouldn't even explain. She just shut the door in my face and told me to leave right then."

"Well, on the upside you have more time to look for Meghan."

"Yeah, more time and less resources." She ran a hand through her hair and shut her eyes. "I'm so pissed right now."

"I can't get you any resources, but I can help you look for Meghan. Dennis's friends came and took him off my hands. I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing, but he's a grown man. He can make his own decisions, and I have room if he breaks himself even more." She reached out and grasped Tara's hands. "We'll find her. I promise."

Tara nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, please knock next time. I had a cancellation, but had he shown, it would have been awkward for all of us."

"I'm sorry. I was just...ranting and raging. I'm really sorry."

"Don't worry about it." She squeezed her hands. "Come on. I'll get my coat, and we can hit up some of your old contacts."

"Right... I left my coat at the station."

"What?" She paused in shrugging into her coat and pulled her ponytail out from in between her shirt and coat. "You stormed out, didn't you?"

"Well, one of the theme is drama, is it not?" She smirked. "Do you have a spare?"

"Yeah, in the closet right here."

Tara opened the closet door and found the coat Denise had mentioned, pulling it on, and she found a pair of gloves in the pocket. It wasn't that cold out, but just in case it was nice to have them nearby. She didn't know how late they'd be out there, and the later it got, the colder, so having these were a good thing. She'd just need a hat and a scarf, but she didn't have time to drop by her apartment, or return to the station. She didn't want to see them right now. She loved them, they were her team and her second family, but she couldn't see them right now. She needed to put some distance between what happened with Rosita and her, so she'd drop back in tomorrow to find out if Michonne found any new leads.

The pair spent a good seven hours out on the street, Tara tried to call Rick to get in touch with his last-resort contacts, but he wouldn't answer his phone. He was either in deep or ignoring her. She wasn't sure, but she was livid. She was fucking livid at this situation. She was livid at the man who took her niece. She was livid that Meghan didn't see the signs and tell her about them the moment she did. She was frustration and furious, and she had no outlet. She tried not to be a big bitch to the people she saw on the streets, the ones she spoke to, but her tone was like shattered glass. She saw Denise throwing looks her way, but there was nothing she could do to keep her from falling into a shittier and shittier mood.

When they parted ways, Denise was worried about what Tara would do next, but she heard Tara speaking to Lilly on the phone. She hoped that meant Tara was going to her apartment. Her heart ached at the sight of Tara, at how she was hurting and struggling and breaking each day that passed with no news on Meghan. She wanted to do more to help her, but she didn't have anything but words. Empty words, and the words that meant a damn weren't appropriate under the current circumstance. Maybe once Meg was home safe and sound...

Denise found her brother outside her apartment that night, narrowing her eyes instantly at the sight of him, and he grinned back, assuring her he was just there to visit. She let him inside and decided to forgo the cup of tea she had planned on making and going for the wine she had for stressful night. If tonight didn't meet her drinking rule standards, she didn't know the hell kind of night did.

"You're drinking?" His brows shot up. "What happened?"

"The same thing that's happened all damn week." She set the bottle down. "We haven't find shit on Meghan, and it's been...too long. Half of the NYPD are looking for a body, Rick's unit's looking for the group of men who may have taken her, and Tara's two steps from busting out her gun on people to get real answers. I honestly wouldn't blame her." She drank deeply from the glass.

"Getting drunk isn't going to bring her home, D."

"I know, and I don't intend on getting drunk."

"You left the bottle out. You damn well do intend to get drunk."

She sighed. "Don't act like we're the same. You have no control, but I do."

"Yeah, too much." He limped over to the counter and splayed his hands out, meeting her eyes. "You need to stop."

"I've only had half a glass."

"I don't mean with the wine. I mean with holding it all in. You can pretend you're not, but I can see it. I know how you are, Denise, and you gotta tell her."

She lowered the wineglass to the counter. "What?"

"Tara. You have feelings for her. Now, I don't know if it's love or...intense liking, but you need to tell her. You need to make a move."

"Did you not hear what I just said?"

"Yeah, a kid's missing, and it's terrible, but she has hordes of people out looking for her. Who aside from me do you have looking out for you? Huh? If you don't take a step toward...the uh, next step in your relationship with her, it's gonna be swept under a rug. She'll find someone else, and you'll be alone."

"Dennis, she has more important things on her plate than my feelings. Yes, I would like to act on them; that's why I ended our sessions and suggested she see someone else for therapy. They're why I haven't left her side since she was admitted in the hospital, and now they're why I'm with her now. Them, and my concern for Meghan. She's a good kid, and I want her brought home in one piece, just like anybody following the case." She shook her head. "You're so inappropriate."

"And you're so prim and proper." He rolled his eyes. "You need to tell her. Or—better yet—grab her and kiss her. It'll get your point across, and you don't have to do it now or tomorrow, just...when the kid's home and it's no longer "inappropriate". I don't want you to miss out on a good thing, because you're scared or anxious."

"Why do you care so much about my happiness? And don't say it's because you're my brother."

"Because I don't intend to stay in New York once my leg's healed," he confessed. "I want to travel, and I want to...just hit the road. Me and a couple guys are heading out, and I don't know when I'll be back. I feel bad enough about leaving you alone, so I wanted to urge you to fight for whatever the hell you want with Tara."

"You're leaving?"

"I'll call...probably."

"Lair." She sipped wine and avoided his eyes, a sheen of tears there.

"I'll try to call, but you know me. I'm forgetful and irresponsible." He smirked at his sister. "I don't leave for a while, but I wanted to tell you now, you know, in case you got busy or...I got busy. I wanted you to know."

"Thanks for telling me."

"It's what I'm here for."

"I'd offer you a glass of wine, but with the painkillers you're on, I don't think that's a good idea." She returned the bottle to its rightful place and walked around the counter to the living room. "I'll order some dinner. What do you want?"

"Whatever you're having."

She smiled. "Okay."

– – –

Tara found Lilly and Caesar in the living room of Lilly's apartment, a butt load of flyers with Meghan's picture on them lying on the dining room table, and they were speaking with someone whose name Tara couldn't catch. She knew a lot of nut jobs called once the Amber Alert was released, but no one of substance had called yet. She doubted this person had genuine information. If they did, she'd shit in her shoes.

"Thank you." Lilly hung up the phone and ran a hand through her hand. "Remind me to change our phone number when this is over."

Caesar offered a thin smile. "I'll make a note of it."

"Hey." Lilly shot up at the sight of her sister and searched her face. "No news?"

"None." She tossed her phone onto the table and sat down. "And I'm no longer on the job. My job. My entire fucking career. Rosita gave me the temporary leave boot."

"What? Why?"

"She didn't say, but it has to do with Meghan's case. I'll admit now and then a little bit it affected my work, but not much. Sasha keeps me straight, and Michonne takes the lead when we're together." She dragged a hand through her raven locks. "I'm too exhausted to be pissed right now, but somehow I'm still pissed."

Lilly glanced at Caesar. "You should go home and get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You sure?" he whispered for only her to hear.

"Yeah, she needs me, not a crowd." She returned his earlier smile. "Get home safe, all right?"

"You too." He turned to Tara. "Get some rest. You'll need it to start fresh tomorrow."

"Thanks, Caesar. I'll try."

Lilly closed the door after him, Tara dragged herself to the kitchen and found cold pizza on the counter, helping herself to it, and Lilly straightened up the mess on the table. She glanced at her sister and set the flyers and notes in two different stacks to be able to tell them apart for later. She approached Tara and set a hand on her shoulder, Tara flinched away and set the slice of pizza she was nibbling on down, and Lilly frowned.

"You're done eating?"

"Denise and I had a big lunch," she lied. "Have you heard anything new?"

"No. I was expecting a call from Rick, but...uh, I guess he was preoccupied. It's good, I hope. He might have found a lead to Meghan."

"Or he found diddly and doesn't know how to tell us." She wiped her hands together. "He wouldn't answer my calls either."

"That doesn't mean he has bad news," Lilly argued. "He could have gone back under for all you know! You had to do it too for one of your cases! You damn near died!"

It was Tara's turn to frown at her sister. "Lilly, calm down."

"How can I calm down? My daughter is out there with rapists and drug...dealers or whatever the hell they're dealing in besides young girls! I don't know if she's even alive! Rick's little leads haven't provided anything useful, and it's been an entire week. You know the numbers, and so do I." Tears sprang up in her eyes. "My daughter's either dead...or been sold to some disgusting perverts and out my reach forever."

"You don't have proof of any of that."

"The proof is that she's been gone a week, and there's nothing, Tara! Dad was a cop, and we talked all the time, unlike you! You haven't even bothered to show up for the past three days, and you leave voice messages on my phone! I already lost my daughter, and I don't want my only family to pull away too!"

"Lilly." She pushed off the counter and embraced her. "I'm so sorry."

"I feel so useless, Tara. I can't find my daughter. I can't help you." She quaked in her sister's arms. "I can't even go to work and do my job, because I'm terrified they'll bring Meghan in on a gurney, beaten and..."

"Shhh." Tara tightened her grip. "It'll be okay. We'll be okay. We'll find a way to get her home. I know I shouldn't promise, but I do. I'll bring her home if I have to tear down this entire fucking city to do it."

Lilly dropped her head onto her sister's shoulder and sobbed deeply, Tara couldn't keep the tears from her eyes, and it took all they had to not crumble to the floor. They did know the numbers. They knew after forty-eight hours to look for a body, and it'd been a week. A long, silent week, and hope was in short supply. It was a wonder Rick was even able to keep going as they had no leads. Well, no leads that Tara was aware of anyway.

Once Lilly calmed, Tara made some tea, and they drifted into Meghan's bedroom. Tara knew Lilly had been sleeping in there, and Tara didn't judge her. When Dad died, Tara lied in his bed and smelled his pillows. The scent was still there, and she cried so hard for so long she thought her tears would replace the scent. She didn't want to relive that with Meghan, so either Rick had to pull through, or she would have to go back under. Fuck the rules, fuck the job. She was going to find Meghan, secure her and bring her the hell home. Her and any others, that was a goddamn promise.

– – –

Tara had lunch with Sasha the following afternoon, trying to see if she'd found anything, and her phone rang. She didn't want to answer it, because it was a blocked number, but it could be Meghan or a lead on her.

"Chambler."

"We found her." It was Rick. "We found her."


	23. Finally

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

Tara, who had taken a drink at the time, choked and shot off the bench. "What?"

"I had to go deep, but we found her," Rick repeated. "A couple of my old contacts...old bosses...heard this new group trafficking young girls, and he took me to this old house. There were a couple girls stumbling around and lead into a house by much older guys. We have the place, and I thought you'd want to come and find her. We know she's there, but we have a lot of perps, a lot of girls. We need all hands on deck for this. Besides, your voice should be the first she hears, not mine."

"I—I'm on my way."

"I'm driving." Sasha grabbed her arm and hurried to the car, not bothering to ask about the call, simply knowing it was about Meghan. Tara told her the address as she unlocked the car. "Do you want to call Lilly?"

"No. It might be a dead end. I can't put her through that again." She buckled herself in as Sasha sped away from the curb. "Let's just see how this pans out. I won't call until I have Meghan in my arms."

"Good plan."

With Sasha's lead foot, they arrived in under thirty-four minutes, and Tara flashed her badge, bolting inside to find Rick. She and Sasha passed by several groups of young—far too young—girls that fit the same description as Meghan, lying here and there. Some clothed only worn down white t-shirts, some naked under the thick blankets, too weak to even stand. A few girls had to be related, or forged strong bonds, as they held each other protectively. They weren't all American girls, weren't all New Yorkers, and it broke Tara's heart to see them.

"Rick!" She rushed over to him. "Have you found her? Is there anyone else in the house?"

"We have most of the assholes arrested outside, but there's one left we can't find, and there's a few rooms at the end of the hall we haven't checked yet. We had to chase after these sons of bitches, but no one's left the house yet." He guided her up the stairs. "Be careful. They're liable to break."

Tara minded her footing, her heart racing, her mouth dry, and she prayed to God that if Meghan was here, she was okay. She was locked up tight in a room with a bunch of other girls who hadn't been touched or beaten or whatever the hell else those bastards did to them. Part of her prayed Meghan wasn't here too. She wanted to find her like right the hell now, but not here. Please, God, not here.

The first room was empty, save for a few beds, and Tara covered her mouth to keep her lunch down. The beds were soaked in semen and bodily fluids, blood even. She had to turn away, and Sasha checked the next room, finding a pair of twins curled up on the floor, shuddering silently. They screamed and backed into a corner at the sight of Rick, and he let a few of the female officers and paramedics tend to them.

The last room had a nicer door, no chipped paint, and there was music coming from inside. It was faint, could only be heard at this close range, and Tara made out the words "cheap thrills". She tried the doorknob and threw it open.

The sounds of Sia's _Cheap Thrills_ filling the air from a radio in the window, fresh air and sunlight drifted, clothes littered the floor, not all belonging to a man, and bed lay unmade with someone still in it.

"Meghan?" Tara flew over to the light-haired girl, her messy blonde hair curled and left unbrushed, her pale arm draped over the pillows, and Tara realized she was completely nude under the sheets. Her hand shook as she turned the girl's head, crying out softly at the sight of her niece. "Oh, God."

Sasha stepped forward and cursed. "She okay?"

Tara nodded through her tears. "She's alive."

Suddenly the bathroom door opened, a blonde man stood there, buttoning up a shirt and smugly smiling at them like it was the most natural thing to do. He ran his eyes over the people hovering over the girl in his bed, and he chuckled.

"Don't worry. I didn't wear her out too bad."

"You son of a bitch!" Tara lunged, but Rick caught her arms. "Let me go, Rick! I'm going to kill him!"

"I can't let you do that." He held on tighter. "I wish to God I could, but I can't. He's not worth it, Tara. He's not worth it."

"Ooh, such drama. Why? Of all the girls here, why does she get you?" He moved his eyes from the girl to the cop and flashed a toothy grin at her, hands up to be cuffed. "She's yours, isn't she? Well, be proud. She was a great lay."

Tara jerked forward, but Rick was stronger, and he held her by the waist now, loosing his grip on her arms. Sasha arrested him, tightening the cuffs so much that he cried out in pain, and she hauled him out of the room, his bellowed laughter could be heard throughout the house, and the girls quivered at the mere echo of it.

Rick finally released her now that the asshole was downstairs, Tara stumbled and nearly collapsed at the sight of her baby niece. Her blonde hair was a matted mess, loosely curled likely days ago and left unbrushed since. Meghan had always been pale, like her mom, but now she was practically dead-white. Dark bags settled under her eyes, fifty shades darker against her lily-white skin, and Tara knew by the lack of freckles that normally kissed across Meghan's nose and upper cheeks she hadn't been outside once. She had lost weight, her once full cheeks were sunken in, and she looked about ten years old now.

"We should get her to a hospital," Rick spoke up. "Get...her tested and checked out."

Tara hastily unbuttoned her blouse, stripping it off her shoulders, leaving her in only a black tank top, and she peered over her shoulder. "Could you turn away?"

"Yeah." He quickly spun around.

She carefully clothed Meghan in the lavender blouse, buttoning it up with trembling fingers, blinking back tears, and she felt a rough material brush against her arm. She looked over as Rick offered his windbreaker jacket, and Tara accepted it, covering Meghan with it. She slid her arms underneath her legs and shoulders, lifting her up off the bed and nearly busting out in tears at how light she was.

With Rick's aid on the stairs, they carried her out of the house. An EMT was waiting for her, Tara asked Sasha to call Lilly, and she stayed with her niece, clutching onto her hand like there was nothing else in the world that mattered. She tried to keep her composure, but as they adjusted her on the gurney, Tara saw bruises on her knees and some on her upper right thigh, and that fucker's words kept playing in her mind. She bowed her head and wept, holding Meghan's small, cold hand in both of hers.

Tara had to be held back by Michonne and Sasha once at the hospital, her grip pried off tenderly by a compassionate nurse, and only then when the small, cold hand had been taken did she collapse. Michonne tried to keep her up, but Sasha eased her down, so Michonne did the same. Michonne wrapped an arm around her shoulder, fresh tears shining in already red, swollen rims, and Michonne hushed her, never once saying _don't cry,_ because honestly she has every reason to cry. She simply let Tara know she was here, Meghan was alive, and from this point they would be fine. They could find a way to be fine.

Sasha called Noah and Rosita, Rosita was already on her way, and Noah was already at the hospital. She told them about Meghan and what they said, but she didn't get further when she saw Lilly running into the lobby. She hung up on Rosita with a brief goodbye and hurried after her.

"Where is she?" Lilly was speaking to another nurse, and Sasha touched her arm, her eyes shifting to her. "Where's Meghan? Where's my baby?"

"We can see her soon," Sasha offered a smile. "Just calm down. She's not even conscious yet." It didn't dawn on Sasha that those words was the wrong thing to say until it was too late. She had meant to lighten the mood, to imply Meghan wouldn't miss her, because she didn't know she wasn't there already. There was no use trying to brighten things however.

Lilly gaped. "Why isn't she conscious? What happened to her?" Tears sprang up in her eyes. "Where's Tara?"

"I'm right here." Tara cleared her throat, closing the space between them, and she hugged her sister. "We found her, Lilly. We found her."

Sasha noted a man lingering by Lilly. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I—I'm a friend." He held his hand out. "Uh, Caesar Martinez." He hoped she caught on, not wanting Lilly to know about his daughter just yet.

"Oh. Sasha Williams. That's Michonne Grimes. We should give them a minute. It's... Let's just give them a minute."

A few minutes later, a cry came from Lilly, Michonne closed her eyes at the sound, and Sasha heaved a sigh, unable to shake the weight pooling in her chest. Caesar watched Tara hold her sister, and he wished to God he could do more than just stand here and observe, but he couldn't return what had been taken. None of them could.

After what felt like hours that had only been about half, they were allowed to see Meghan now, Lilly appreciated everyone coming, but she restricted the visits to family only. Tara didn't have the energy to apologize, and they understood. Lilly held onto Tara's hand as they were led to Meghan's room, and Lilly's legs gave out at the sight of her daughter lying still unconscious on the bed. She fell onto the mattress, her grip only tightening on Tara's hand, and Tara wrapped her free arm around Lilly's shoulders, kissing her forehead. Lilly reached out and grasped Meghan's hand.

Tara smoothed down her sister's hair, and Lilly wiped at her eyes. "She'll be okay." Tara spotted Dr. S nearing, and she excused herself. She didn't close the door but motioned for him to keep his voice down.

They conversed for a moment, Tara shifted uneasily at the mention of a rape kit, and he felt uneasy talking about it for a girl he'd known since she was a baby. It tore at his heart to be here, to be saying these things, but better him than a callous strangers. He owed it to Lilly and Meghan to be here.

"We need her to sign off," Dr. S stated. "She knows—"

"Do it," Lilly cut him off, not looking up. "I want to know she'll be okay, so do the rape kit and give her..." She couldn't say it, couldn't dare bring herself to finish. She had said rape kit several times in her years as a nurse, but never once in reference to her own child. She couldn't bare to think that rapist asshole might have gotten her pregnant or given her a sexually transmitted decease. God. Her eyes burned, and she shook her head. "Just...please."

He nodded.

Tara remained in the doorway. "She'll need to talk to...someone, state what exactly happened, and it'll go from there, but we don't...know what happened."

"You found her naked in a dingy house with a man in the next room. I think it's pretty obvious what happened." Her voice was dark, venom twisting into each word, and she tried to keep from sneering, but she couldn't help it.

"I didn't meant the... I meant the events leading up to it. Did he take her? Did she leave willingly? Was it...consensual?"

"She's fourteen. She can't give consent."

"I know that, Lilly. I know the law, but I just want you to be prepared for whatever she tells you."

"I won't be in here—there—wherever when she speaks to the police," Lilly corrected. "You will be. I can't—I can't hear what he did to my baby. I can't—"

Tara pushed off the doorway and embraced her again. "Shh. I'm here. Meghan's here. It'll be... We're here."

––

Lilly was asleep in the chair beside Meghan's bed, Tara had told the others how it was going so far, and when she got back, Meghan was waking up. She hurried over and shook Lilly.

"Baby?" Lilly rose out of her seat. "Meghan?"

Her eyes opened slowly, narrowing and blinking followed, and she pulled her hand from her mom's, rubbing her eyes. "Mmm..."

"Hey, kid." Tara grinned at her. "How are you?" Meghan didn't speak, and Tara frowned. "Meg?"

She groaned, Lilly quickly grabbed the trashcan, and Meghan threw up. Tara groaned now, moving blonde hair from her mouth, and Lilly stroked her back until Meghan got it out of her system. She slumped back against the pillows, Lilly removed the trashcan, and Tara handed her a tissue to wipe her mouth with.

"Thanks." She balled it up. "What's going on?"

"Rick found you." Tara moved hair back from her face. "We brought you to the hospital."

"Found me?" Meghan blinked. "Was I missing?"

"For a little over a week." Lilly didn't recall them mentioning a head wound that would imply possible memory loss, though they'd yet to get the blood work back. It could be a side effect of any drugs they might have given her. "Did you think you were gone one night?"

"It was always dark," she mumbled. "I thought... He didn't say time had passed. There weren't any clocks."

"He? Malick?" Tara pressed.

"No."

"All right." Tara could see Meghan didn't want to say more, and honestly she shouldn't be telling them this. "I'll go call Rick, have him and his partner come down and talk to you. I'll let you tell her about...you know."

"You know?" Meghan's eyes widened. "What's that? Mom?"

Tara scurried out of the room, bumping into Dr. S who had come to speak with them on Meghan's blood work and frowning at what he told her. Lilly explained what Tara had meant and a few other things, and Tara found Rick already in the waiting room with Michonne. He explained the delay—given the number of arrests they had to make from the bust, plus sorting out all the girls, both illegal and not, they were behind—but he refused to let Meghan fall through the cracks.

"She's awake, though?" Rick inquired.

"Yes. Disoriented as to be expected, but awake. Lilly's...explaining some things to her." Tara shook her head. "She didn't even know she was missing. They literally kept her in the dark, drugged out of her mind, and to top _that_ off, she was drunk too. The results of her blood work... Well, I'm just glad they didn't OD her."

Michonne set a consoling hand on Tara's arm. "She'll get through this."

"How? She doesn't even know she was..." She huffed. "And we have to make her relive all of that, and you know rape cases go."

"He has a lot more charges than just this," Rick assured her. "He'll be locked away for long time."

"Don't jinx it."

Michonne smiled at the joking tone. "We'll go pick up some food for you guys. I'll swing by and get her some clothes to go home in."

"Large chocolate milkshake. They're her favorite." Tara smiled appreciatively at her departing. "Lilly doesn't want to be there for the interview. She can't hear what he did to her, but I'm supposed to...accept the burden and swallow every detail."

"She needs one of you there."

"I know she does. I know I need to be supportive and tell her he can't hurt her. It's over. I need to do these things as...as her aunt, but...I am not ready to hear how my niece, this kid I used to swaddle and feed mashed up peas and carrots, was held against her will, drugged, given alcohol and...assaulted." She crossed her arms. "I just want to kill him, Rick. I want to wrap my hands around his throat and kill him."

"You aren't the only one."

"You should have let me punch him."

"Yeah, but he could have cried police brutality. He already looks the part: rich, white, baby-faced. No, it's best we don't risk him getting let off 'cause they try to turn the focus on us."

She dragged a hand through her hair and spotted a blonde entering the hospital. She turned and saw Denise closing in. "Denise."

"I just heard about them finding her." She stopped a foot away from them. "I—I was out in the park, trying to follow a lead I got from...er, a friend I have in the NYPD. I would have come sooner, but my phone was in my car. I'm sorry. I got here as soon as I could."

"You were out looking for her?" Tara echoed, knowing they had looked for hours together, but she, for some unknown reason, hadn't expected Denise to go out of her way for Meghan. "In the park? When it's this cold?"

"Of course, Tara. She's just a kid—a good kid. I care about her, and she's your niece, and I had to try. I mean, I couldn't...sit around. I had to try." She glanced from Rick to Tara. "So, how is she?"

Tara stammered. "Shaky. She just woke up. The drugs they'd been giving her knocked her on her ass, and...they didn't know what it was until the blood work came back. They gave her something to clear out her system. They've likely started the rape kit, and she has to take pills to prevent...pregnancy and some other stuff I zoned out, because I honestly can't think about my niece and that...bastard without seeing red."

"She was... Oh, God. Tara, I'm so sorry." Denise reached over and grasped her hand. "I know it doesn't change what happened, but I am here for you, and for her."

"We still have to...interview her, get her statement, and Lilly asked me to sit in. I don't know if I can."

"I'll go with you." She rubbed her thumb over Tara's knuckles. "I already know Meghan and her tells. If it gets to be too much, I'll tell you guys so you don't overwhelm her. I've dealt with...assault victims before. I can be of assistance."

"You'd do that?"

"Of course." She smiled heartily at her. "I can even find a therapist for her to see regularly, if Lilly agrees."

"I'll make her agree. Meghan can't just go back to life after this." Hell, she wasn't entirely sure she could go back to life after this.

"I'm here for you too," Denise stepped closer, lowering her voice. "It doesn't matter what you need, I'm here."

"I know you are." She offered a sweet and somewhat private smile, gripping her hand more. "I'm really glad you're here."

Denise returned her smile. "I wouldn't be anywhere else."

"We'll give them a minute," Rick cleared his throat so they knew he was still there. "Let them wrap up in there."

"Should you be doing this?" Denise laced her fingers subconsciously through Tara's out of habit, stepping closer.

"My partner's caught up with the bust. It was her operation, so I'm here. I've known Meghan a long time. If my being there triggers her, I'll drive Shepard down here my damn self."

They waited until Lilly came to get them, Tara asked again if Lilly was sure she didn't want to be there, and Lilly nodded. Meghan was curled up in the bed, hugging her legs to her chest, looking discomforted. She perked up slightly at the sight of Denise and Tara, but that died when her eyes fell to Rick. Denise registered Meghan's look as one of dread, not terror. She seemed okay enough to have Rick in the room, which was a good start, but they hadn't began poking yet. She hoped Meghan allowed herself to panic and seek support, not just swallow her emotions and tears and keep going and block the world out. That's what led her here in the first place.

"Hey, kid." Tara rubbed her back. "How are you feeling?"

"I just wanna go home and shower." She tightened her grip on her legs. "Can we leave now? Please?"

"Not just yet."

"Why not?" She whined. "I'm tired of being poked and prodded. I just wanna go home."

"Soon. I promise. Michonne's bringing food and clothes, and we'll get you changed. Lilly's already trying to get you signed out as soon as possible. It's...just a long process." She smiled encouragingly at her niece. "You know why we're here?"

"Mom told me, but..." She swept her gaze over to Rick. "I wasn't raped."

"Meghan—"

"No. I wasn't raped." She flipped her palms so they were outward, trying to convey what happened to them. "This—this isn't denial. This isn't Stockholm. I wasn't, okay? I just...wasn't."

Denise could tell by the urgency in her eyes and by her body language Meghan was telling the truth. She smiled softly, and Meghan tried to return it, but she didn't have the energy. The kid was worn out, hungry, in need of a shower and a good night's sleep. The sooner this was over, the better.

"So, you mind telling me what did happen?" Rick took a seat, flipping out a notepad. "From the beginning."

"Umm...it's still kinda hazy." She moistened her cracked lips and rubbed her shoulder. "I...was at home. I was all alone, and it was just so quiet. I could hear the neighbors fighting. I don't remember what about, but I couldn't...handle hearing it mixed with...the sheer emptiness of the apartment anymore. I climbed out the window. I don't know where I was headed. I think I was just gonna figure it out as I went along, but... I—"

"Go on."

"Umm." She blinked, her head tilting ever so slightly, and she sighed. "I don't remember. I...I was behind the apartments, and it all...jumbles up." She motioned with her hand.

"Take it slow," Tara recommended. "What's the first thing you remember after leaving home?"

"Music." She could still feel it pulsating throughout her entire body from the tips of her toes. "Dancing. A lot—a lot of heat, and—" She cut off, a look of trepidation crossing her light eyes, and she pressed her lips together.

"It's all right," Denise prompted. "You're not in trouble. Just tell us what happened."

"We... _I_ drank a lot." She couldn't look at her aunt, so she studied the pattern on Denise's shoes. "But there were drugs too. Blue tablets. I don't know what they were."

"Did you take them?" Rick pressed. "Willingly?"

She nodded, pretending Tara wasn't there and her eyes weren't boring into her. "I thought it'd be... I don't know what I thought. I only took about two, but...I dunno. I guess he gave me more? Or maybe they were really strong. I don't know." She coiled her arms around herself and sniffed. "I don't know when we got to that house. It's really blurry, but I think...I think I ate fruit. Peaches. I remember the soft skin and the smell."

"They fed you?" That was Tara.

"I didn't always eat. I wasn't always hungry." She wanted to look at her aunt, but she couldn't. She felt repulsive and ashamed. She couldn't bring herself to look at anyone. "He always had music playing. He liked to dance. He liked champagne."

"How did you get those bruises?" Rick indicated to her lower legs with his pen.

"I fell." She saw herself stumbling on stairs, giggling, but that was all. "The stairs were... There were a lot of stairs."

"Tara, could I speak to you?" Denise nodded her head to the hall, and they exited the room. They found Lilly on the floor just outside, Tara bent down beside her to see if she was okay, and Denise gave them a moment.

"We weren't there. She was all alone, and she couldn't stand it," Lilly whispered. "That's what drove her from the apartment and to...them?"

"We didn't know—"

"Don't." She raised a hand. "Just don't."

"I need to talk to you." Denise faced them. "Both of you."

Lilly looked up. "What about?"

"Meghan."

"And what do you want to tell me about my daughter?" She stood up. "Because I honestly don't know who she is anymore. Maybe you know."

"Lilly, don't say that." Tara straightened. "You know her."

Lilly shook her head. "What do you have to say?"

"She needs help." Denise elaborated, "She needs to see a therapist, maybe even be put on medication."

"What?" Lilly snapped. "Medication? For what?"

"Depression."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Tara's hands briefly covered her ears, and she stammered. "Depression? What the hell? How could you possibly know she has depression? She's just a kid. Yes, she went through some rough shit, but that doesn't lead directly to depression."

Denise locked eyes with her. "You see a fourteen-year-old girl who you've raised and loved and be there for you're entire life. I see a kid about to spiral off down a path there might not be a return on! The drinking, the drugs, the sex—it's self-harm. Throwing herself head first into danger? It...was with the intent to get hurt. She's trying to rid herself of complex and overwhelming emotions any way she could. Just because she didn't pick up a razor doesn't mean she's all right."

Lilly's eyes were wide and staring, her mouth screwed shut as Denise spoke, and she leaned against the wall for support. Tara rubbed the heels of her hands into her forehead and tried to mentally combat every word that escaped Denise's mouth with facts she knew about her niece. Depression? Self-harm? What the hell?

"She basically said she starved herself," Denise pressed on. "Another form of self-harming. She was almost swept into a prostitution ring. Do you realize that? Meghan is incredibly lucky Rick's team were already planning to bust these people. Had she gone anywhere else...you might not have found her, at least not like this. You can't let it escalate any further, because if it does, you won't get her back."

"What do you suggest?" Lilly murmured, a sheen of tears in her eyes. "What can I do?"

"I know someone who's great with kids like Meghan. He's good at his job, builds trust with each patient, and he has a way of getting to real issues. He'll be able to figure out exactly what Meghan needs, and it's affordable. I can introduce him as soon as tomorrow, if you like."

"What if she gets worse?" Lilly tried to keep the quiver from her voice, but she couldn't. "What if she tries to—?"

"I can't promise she won't. It's going to a struggle for her. Coming back isn't easy, and sometimes there's nothing to come back to, so she might have to restart, but Meghan's a tough kid. I've no doubts she'll pull through."

She nodded. "Thank you."

She smiled. "It's why I'm here. I'll come by with Eric tomorrow afternoon, let Meghan get some rest and have their first meeting somewhere she feels safe. It won't be a session, just an introduction. He'll just talk with her for a bit, but nothing invasive."

"Okay. That sounds good. Try for one."

"Yeah. I should go call and make sure he's available."

"I'm going to check on Meghan."

They parted ways, Lilly thanked Tara for inviting Denise down, and Tara didn't comment. As Denise neared the exit, Tara exhaled and called to her. She jogged over to her, minding the flow of incoming people, and she stepped outside with her.

"Thank you." She met her eyes. "You didn't have to come down here, didn't have to make any suggestions, but you did, and I—we appreciate it."

"It's not a big deal."

"Yeah, it is. You took time out of your life for us, and I can't tell you what it means." She averted her eyes and chewed her bottom lip for a moment. "When we were kids, our dad knew everything. Or it seemed like he did, you know? He was smart and funny and compassionate. He could always make us smile. For as long as I can remember, we've turned to him for support and ideas on how to approach this or that, but he's gone now. We only have each other, and it's difficult. I try to be around enough, and Lilly tries to be there for Meghan, but we both work, and it's a mess.

"When he died, Meghan...stopped trusting us as much. We kept assuring her he'd pull through, kept saying he'd do this and that when he was out, but...he didn't get out. He didn't pull through, and I always felt like she blamed us. We sugarcoated everything. We gave her false hope, trying to cling to it ourselves, and I think that's when...she started to change. We were so distracted by our jobs and our lives we didn't notice her pulling away until she turned up wasted at the station. I didn't take it seriously, not as seriously as I should, and then this happened." She shuddered. "We should have done better, and I can't thank you enough for...looking for her, for helping her. She's not even your family, and you went out of your way to see she gets help and improves."

"Is there a question coming, or more anecdotes?" Denise teased.

Tara chuckled for the first time far too long. "I just wanted to ask you why."

The light of the fading evening sun caught in Tara's deep brown eyes, the appreciation there overflowing, and Denise reached up, placing her palms on either side of Tara's weather-chilled cheeks. Tara didn't have time to register Denise touching her face before soft lips brushed over hers. It was a quick kiss, and Denise stepped aside to call Eric.

"I don't date my patients," Denise informed her, dialing the number. "That's why I cut you loose. It's very inappropriate, and I don't do inappropriate."

Tara smirked. "Oh, yeah?"

"Oh, yeah." She was pulled back in for another brief kiss, because despite wanting to linger on this, Meghan was the priority tonight. They'd have time for this later, but for now she wanted to do everything she could to ensure Meghan's mental stability.

* * *

 _A/N: In honor of The Walking Dead returning, a chapter. (And if you like the end of this, I'll think you'll love the beginning of next chapter.)_


	24. Never Expected This

_A/N: I'm going to warn everyone there's some graphic text about Meghan's experience at the house in this chapter, in case it's triggering for anyone._

* * *

 ** _Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

Tara slipped her fingers through Denise's silken blonde hairs, her lips brushing over hers, and she pulled back briefly. Denise said nothing as Tara scrutinized her face, and Tara smiled slowly. She had adorable freckles that ran along her nose and upper cheeks, accentuating her olive skin and twinkling expressive eyes. She was so beautiful and amazing and with her. She had seen her through some of the most difficult obstacles of her life, and she still wanted to be with her, wanted to stand by her side through whatever came next, and Tara's heart swelled, the smile on her lips only widening as affection flooded her eyes.

Denise reflected her smile and leaned forward to kiss her lips, moving her hand from around Tara's waist to tangle in her short raven locks, wanting to do so since that day in the cafe. She could taste the wine they'd had on Tara's breath as she tenderly nudged her lips part, and Tara cupped her cheeks, opening her mouth to Denise's.

They had decided to go back to Denise's apartment, because it was closer. They wanted to be alone. It was their first impromptu date, and it would appear tonight was _the_ night. Tara wasn't worried about what was going to happen. She was worried about what was _already_ happening, what had been happening between them from the moment they first held hands and it dawned on her what she was feeling. Cops and romance never went well. By some miracle Michonne, Noah and Sasha had gotten lucky with it, but Rosita and Tara? Not so much.

She wanted this to last for as long as possible. What she was feeling for Denise in a little under two months was almost ridiculous. She wasn't afraid to fall in love, especially not with her, but Tara had been in love before, and it didn't work. The job broke them up, and she knew Denise understood her dedication to the job, but they weren't together then. Tara didn't want to have to chose between Denise and the job. She hoped that day never came. Or if it did, she could avoid it and tape over the cracks that would begin to show. Pretend until the dam broke, or it wasn't an issue anymore. More likely the first, but she could dream. For Denise, she could dream

Tara's button down was laying on the floor beside the bed, their shoes piled up by the doorway to the bedroom, and they were lying on Denise's bed. There was some happy giggling from both of them, nose nudges and deep kisses. There wasn't a trace of anxiety left in either woman, all of it washed away with another taste of those pink lips, and Tara stroked her thumb over her cheek, tracing the curve her smile brought.

Denise loosened her fingers from Tara's hair, gliding her hand down over her soft curves, both feeling and hearing a chuckle pass through Tara. She must be ticklish. Denise would explore that train of thought later. Right now, she had other things in mind, no matter how she loved to the sound of this woman's laugh.

Her fingertips discovered the button of Tara's slacks, and with minimum difficulty unfastened them, sliding the zipper down, and she broke the kiss to search those dark orbs, the answer blatant behind the heady clouds of desire and longing. She smiled and rested her forehead against hers, hand drifting further downward, and Tara's lips parted, a rush of breath inhaled. Her body arched as muscles long thought forgotten awoken and sent heat flooding through her entire body, and Denise crushed her mouth against Tara's, swallowing the heated moan that escaped through her parted lips.

––

The room was littered now with their clothing, the fervent cries of ecstasy simmered down to contented sighs and occasional chuckles, their legs tangled toward the end of the bed; Tara's arm draped around Denise as the blonde lied on her back, her fingers running over Tara's arm, and dark eyes watched her.

Denise rolled her head to the side to peer back at Tara who's head propped up with her other hand. "Why are you looking at me like that?" She lowered her eyes, almost as if she didn't want the answer.

She shrugged a shoulder. "I'll let you know when I know."

Denise chuckled. "So you're just staring to stare?"

"Got a problem with it?"

"What if I do have a problem with it?" she mused.

"Then deal with it." Tara moved her hand to brush awry hairs from the blonde's forehead. "Or get used to it, because I can't seem to stop myself from staring."

"And why's that?"

A loving smile crossed her lips. "Because you're beautiful." She grinned when red rose up on Denise's cheeks. "And it's...still sinking in."

"Sinking in?" She rolled onto her side to face her. "What do you mean?"

She shook her head, black hairs falling in her face, and she met Denise's eyes when she combed them back. "Just...us. This. I haven't been in a relationship in...what feels like years and probably has been years, and when I first met you I never thought we'd end up here."

"I know what you mean, but it happened." She beamed. "Twice, it happened."

She laughed, her shoulders shaking from it, and she buried her face in the pillow, feeling a kiss to her shoulder. She managed to compose herself and peeked through her hair at the woman beside her. "That's my line."

"I'm pretty sure I'm the one who said it, so...there's nothing you can do about it."

"Oh? Nothing I can do?"

She nodded, her eyes luminescent with playfulness and teasing, and Tara thought about what to do for about a second. She pushed herself up and tacked her, only there wasn't much room to the right of the bed, so they tumbled onto the floor in a fit of laughter and slight groans of hitting a wood flood with only a thin sheet to break their fall.

"Sorry," Tara wheezed through her laughter. "Not my best plan."

"You don't even get an E for effort."

"I'll make it up to you." She leaned over her. "Three's always been kind of my lucky number."

Denise snickered. "Wow. How can I say no to that?"

"I know. I'm incredibly smooth."

"Completely." She curled her hand around her neck and brought her down, their lips meeting.

––

Tara woke up to an empty bed, the scent of fresh coffee and eggs and oatmeal filled the room, and she slid out of bed, finding underwear and her shirt. She was still in a haze from the sleep and...well, last night to be bothered to look for anything else.

"You're up." Denise greeted her with an affectionate smile. "I was going to make you breakfast in bed."

"I can go back," she mused, crossing over to her.

"No, this is fine." She set a hand on her cheek and kissed her. "This is better."

"Good morning to you too." She grinned.

"Here." She handed her a plate of eggs and bacon. "Meghan called."

"Oh? How is she? Does she need me?"

"She's fine. She wanted to set up the appointment with Eric herself, and she wants us to be there. All of us. I think she needs the support."

"Okay. When is it?"

"Today, at one. We have a couple hours, but we'll have to get you home and showered and changed." She grasped her own plate and cup of coffee and moved to the couch. "And I need to check in on my brother, but it can wait. He's probably not even up yet."

"You said this Eric was good? Is he?" She sat beside her. "I just don't want some asshole poking around in my niece's head right know. I trust you, but people hide shit. He could be cruel behind closed doors."

She smiled, understanding her worry. "He's a good guy. You'll meet him before he ever meets Meghan, and you'll see that."

She nodded. "All right. I just don't want to put Meghan through any more suffering."

"I know." Her smile softened, and she set a hand on Tara's knee. "Me either."

They ate their breakfast, Tara drove them to her apartment to shower and change since she couldn't wear what she wore last night, and Denise found a message from her brother on her phone. She sent him a text and waited for Tara. She emerged from her room half an hour later, her hair still damp, and Denise made her dry it before they left. It wasn't yet spring, and she didn't her to catch pneumonia. It was nice a change to see reckless wet hair on a cold day Tara, instead of heartbroken, crying, whose will demands Tara.

They arrived at ten till, Lilly greeted them, surprised to find them holding hands, and she showed them in.

"Meghan's in the shower. She's...taken about fifteen since we got home last night." She poured them coffee.

"How was she last night? It was her first night back since she was found." Denise accepted the coffee with a thankful smile. "Did she sleep?"

"No. She asked me to stay with her, and I was so exhausted and having her back in my arms... I fell asleep, but when I woke up, she was curled up in the armchair, staring out the window. She has bags under her eyes, and she's had at least an entire pot of coffee by herself."

"The doctors gave her something to help her sleep, didn't they?" Tara inquired.

"Yes, but the last thing I want is her on more pills. I know she's not an addict, but she has shown signs of withdrawal." Lilly kept her voice low. "I don't want to feed any habits."

"Lilly, she needs to sleep."

"There are other ways to lull a child to sleep," Lilly ground out. "She's my child, and if I don't want to give her pills, I won't. She has medication for anxiety, and I let her take those."

"Have you gotten the results back?" Denise changed the subject. "Dr. S said he'd rush them."

"He called me." She smiled a little. "She doesn't have any STDs. She's clean."

"Oh, thank God." Tara fall back into the chair behind her.

"Although the results of the rape kit prove it was, in fact, rape," Lilly murmured. "There's damage there that is consistent to those with rape, so what happened between them was... I mean, regardless it is still statutory rape, as she's a minor, and he's in his early twenties."

"She told us it wasn't," Denise reminded them. "I wonder how aware she was during..."

Lilly closed her eyes and her grip on her coffee cup was knuckle-white.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"I just don't understand how anybody could look at her and see anything other than a child." She bowed her head. "She hasn't even...matured yet, and she's only had her period for a year. God, they make me sick."

"It's over, and Meghan wasn't violated by the hordes of men they would have thrown her with. She can still reclaim her life." Denise reached out and took Lilly's hand. "They can't touch her anymore."

She nodded. "I'm going to the trial, and Rick assured me the DA was ruthless. He'd go for the throat and no juror will side with those animals."

"Yeah, Barba is a snake." Tara smirked. "He's a damn good man too. He'll bring them to justice."

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, Meghan shuffled out of the bathroom in her winter pajamas, and Denise introduced Eric to Lilly and Tara first. Lilly already like the man at his compassion and kind smile, his soothing words, and Tara could see why Denise gave the man such glowing reviews. Lilly allowed Denise to introduce Meghan and Eric, leaving the sisters alone, and Tara nudged her sister encouragingly.

"She'll be okay, Lilly."

"I'll wait and see before I comment on that." She met her sister's eyes. "So, you and Denise?"

Tara smiled. "Yeah? What about us?"

"Tara, I know you. I know you better than I know my daughter apparently, and I knew you two had feelings for each other. I didn't expect you to sleep together the first night Meghan was brought home, but..."

"I didn't mean for it to happen. I just took her out to dinner, because you wanted to give Meghan a little room to breathe. We drank, and one thing lead to another, and I woke up at her place." She saw her sister grinning at her as she spoke. "It was our first date, and we had sex. We both didn't mean for it to happen, but...it did, and it was...amazing, and I don't regret it. I regret falling off the bed, because I have bruise on my knee, but that's it."

"I'm happy for you two. I haven't seen you with someone in so long, and I'm...tickled pink." She smirked. "You really care about her, and I know she cares about you."

Tara blushed and returned her sister's smile. "Yeah, we do. It...feels right and good. I've wanted this since before I was nearly crushed like a pancake, and it's finally happened. I don't want to screw this up."

"Don't worry. You've always been good with relationships. I know you two will be fine."

"I don't want _fine_ , Lilly. I...I don't want to just slide through this relationship, not like in the past. I want...more with her, and it's been barely two days since we started dating. I'm freaked the fuck out at how much I want with her, and that hasn't happened to me in...so long. I don't want fine with her. I want...great—amazing—fantastic—stellar." She laughed at the look in her sister's eyes. "I could really love her, Lilly."

She hugged her little sister tightly. "I know, and that's why I'm happy for you, kid."

Tara rolled her eyes but accepted the hug. "And Meghan will be all right. It's a long road, but I came back from mine. You came back from yours. Meghan will find her way through. I know she will. We just have to help her through the bumps and dangers."

She nodded. "I believe you."

"You should. I know _everything_."

She chuckled through her tears. "I'll bet."

"Money? 'Cause I could use some new shoes."

"Get off of me." Lilly teasingly shoved Tara away, Tara laughed, and Lilly rubbed a hand under her eyes, shaking her head at her sister and smiling somewhat.

––

The introduction went well, Meghan wanted to see him again, and he made time for their first session. Tara and Denise walked him out, Lilly sat down on Meghan's bed to see if she was hungry, but Meghan lied down with her head in her mom's lap, closing her eyes. Lilly moved the hair from her face and kissed her temple as her breathing evened out and she drifted off.

Tara and Denise found them like that a few moments later, they let them be, and Tara decided to pick up dinner for them. Denise laced her fingers through hers to scoot along beside her, and Tara pursed her lips, feeling like she should make her feelings known. She wasn't the type to keep quiet when something ate at her after all.

"Hang on a second." Tara stopped walking, and Denise faced her. "I need to talk to you."

"That's not a good sentence." She studied her. "What is it?"

"About last night...when I came back to take you out to dinner, I didn't mean...for things to go as far as they did. I planned on a celebratory dinner, a dinner I've owed you for weeks now, and not...what happened after."

Denise frowned. "Oh."

"Not that I regret what happened," Tara quickly revised. "I just didn't plan on it happening on our first date."

"Oh." Her frown faded. "Yeah, I've never done anything like that."

"I just wanted you to know while I don't regret it, I had plans on waiting a bit."

"A bit?" She smirked. "How long would you have waited?"

"At least until the third date."

"Third?"

"Yeah. Why? When would you have made your move?"

"Well, I already did—last night." Tara snickered, and Denise stepped closer. "I didn't want to wait any longer. With all the things that took you from me, I wanted one moment where you were...mine, and once I had you...I couldn't get enough."

Tara's heart swelled as it had last night at her words, and she didn't have any sarcastic remarks. She always had one, but she didn't right now. "Yeah, me too."

Denise leaned over and kissed her, reaching up to cup her cheek, and Tara pulled her closer. The nippy air didn't bother either of them, Tara pulled back and her nose accidentally bumped against Denise's. She chuckled softly and kissed her again, feeling the same overtaking her as it had last night, only they weren't drunk on wine and happiness from finding Meghan and each other. Nor were they close to either of their apartments.

"A- _hem_."

Tara jolted and turned to find Beth and Noah standing a few feet away from them, Beth had her arm looped through his, her nose pink and a beanie tugged down over the tops of her ears, and Noah was smirking at them.

"We have a child here." He nodded to where Nate was between them. "He's very young, and he might think that's okay. It's not okay to meet new people as they suck face. Don't you think he should at least meet Denise without Tara attached to her face?"

"Nope, it's rude," Beth mused.

Tara rolled her eyes and bent down. "Hey, Nate."

He grinned and ran over to her, tackling her in her. "Tara! I missed you!"

"I missed you too. God, you're getting so big." She squeezed him.

"What brings you here?" Denise was trying to get rid of the blush staining her cheeks.

"We came to check on Meghan." Beth nodded her head to the building. "How is she?"

"She's...alive." Tara couldn't say any thing more. "She's resting now, so unless you wear the little sugar rush here out right now, you shouldn't go up. She didn't sleep at all last night."

"We can stop by the park." Beth glanced at her husband. "It's just down the street, and I did want an ice cream."

"In this cold?"

"Yeah, there's no line," she argued.

Tara smirked. "We'll go with you. I'll just text Lilly."

"Actually," Denise said, "I have to leave."

"Leave?" Tara's brows furrowed. "Why?"

"It's just an appointment I have. I delayed it to look on Meghan, but I can't again." She smiled apologetically. "I'll see you later."

"Okay." Tara set Nathan down. "Uh, just give me a call."

She nodded. "It was good to see you again, Noah." She hurried off.

"Was it something I said?" Beth glanced at her husband then to Tara. "Or was it his breathe? He had a weird lunch."

"It wasn't me," Noah protested. "She has a life and job to worry about, okay?"

"Let's go to the park!" Nathan whined. "Come on!"

Beth released his arm and headed toward the park with Nathan, Noah followed after them, and Tara glanced back at Denise's retreating figure. She wondered what appointment she had today. She hadn't mentioned it before, so why did she take off like a shot just now? Maybe she forgot and suddenly remembered at the sight of Beth, Noah and Nathan?

She sighed and felt her phone vibrate. She pulled it out and found a message from Denise. She smiled at the message and jogged to catch up to the three-year-old calling to her and waving his arms.

 _I'll bring dinner by your place at eight, but no wine. I don't think we'll need it. By the way if I'm late, it's Mr. Walters. He called to request a session, and I couldn't say no. I forgot completely with what happened with Meghan and then us. I'll explain it more later, but have a good time at the park for me, okay?_

– – –

Rosita rolled over in bed and smiled at her son who was crushed against Spencer, and she nearly laughed. She could see how they mirrored each other, and her heart warmed. She knew they'd have to talk to him about this, but after the shooting, she was just grateful he was all right. He could sleep with Mom and Dad for a little while. She didn't mind.

She moved hair back from his face and kissed his forehead then swung out of bed. She checked the clock and saw it was nearly noon. They'd all slept so hard. It must be from having stayed up late on Meghan's case. She helped out with the arrests and paperwork, and Spencer and Alejándro had waited up for her. She told them not to, but he wanted to hear how Meghan was, and Alejándro couldn't sleep without both of them here in the bed with him. She liked having a full bed. It beat a cold empty on any day.

She checked her phone, but there were no messages, no new murders, no commotion. She was stunned but thrilled. She wanted to spend one damn weekend at home for once.

"Hey." Spencer's groggy voice called from behind her. "You leaving?"

"No." She faced him. "We slept really late."

"Yeah, I noticed." He yawned. "I need a shower."

"So do I." She glanced behind him toward her bedroom. "Is he awake?"

"The kid's out cold." He chuckled. "He was up so late, and he's just tuckered out. I think only food will wake him up at this point."

"I could make his favorite lunch after I shower."

"Let me go first and you cook then you can shower—"

"And eat cold food once I get out?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "No way."

"Well, I don't want to eat cold food either, and I don't stink, but I feel grimy. I need a shower. It's my apartment."

"It's _our_ apartment," she corrected and stepped toward him, "and my bathroom is a lot closer than yours."

"Yeah, but we'd both wind up with cold water." He paused. "Or you can take a bath."

"What? No. You take a bath."

"No, I hate baths. You just stew in your own fifth."

"So, what do we do? Shower together?"

"My shower's big enough, but I doubt you can keep your hands off me. You couldn't the last time."

"I was joking, and I could so keep my hands off you. I did it the entire time we were friends."

"Well, yeah, but now you've had me and now how good it is, so you won't be able to resist. You had a stressful week, and I could help with that."

She smirked. "You really think you're the best I've had?"

He glared. "I didn't say I was, but thanks for that."

She giggled. "Just admit you want me right now, and I'll shower with you."

"Wait, what? How did we get here?"

"Right after you told me to take a bath."

"Why do I have to say I want you?"

She walked over to him, her feet smacking against the tile floor, and she peered up at him. "I just want to hear you say it."

He studied her. "Why?"

"I just do."

"Okay, fine, but I'm hogging the hot water."

"Fine. I'll just stand behind you and wash myself thoroughly with soap..."

His mouth dried out at the image in his head, and he could feel blood rushing through his body. "That's fine."

She smirked even more and opened her mouth to speak when Alejándro called to them. She sighed a little and told him it was best if she went in alone, and he groaned at the opportunity that was now lost. He focused on making lunch, pulling out the ingredients for what Alejándro liked, and she came back holding him in her arms. He smiled at the sight of them, and he kissed the top of Alejándro's head.

Rosita beamed at him and let Alejándro help in preparing lunch, and Spencer decided maybe the real opportunity wasn't lost after all. He was positive it wasn't missed at Rosita's laughter and Alejándro's smile. His family, the woman he loved and the son he loved more than life itself. If he played his cards right, maybe every weekend could be like this.

– – –

"Don't pick on your brother." Michonne whacked both boys with a pillow when she passed them, and she wondered if they were glued to the couch. They hadn't moved in hours since Rick bought them that new game. It wasn't even two player, so one of them was just sitting there watching and criticizing. She didn't get it, but it was their way of bonding, however weird it was to her.

"Hey, Mom." Andre turned on the couch to face his mom. "When's Dad coming home?"

Michonne set the throw pillow down. "I don't know. He has a lot on his plate right now."

"He always does," Carl bitterly retorted. "That's why he bought us this game, to distract us from his glaring absence."

"No, that's not why." She reached over and paused the game. "Rick has to deal with the people who kidnapped your friend Meghan and a lot of other girls. He's making sure they can't hurt anyone else."

Carl swallowed. "I want to see Meghan, but he said we couldn't. He said he'd only stress her out and crowd her. He wouldn't even tell us what happened to her in that house."

"She needs some time to herself right now. She has a lot of healing to do." She reached out and stroked his cheek. "But you'll see her, and I know you'll make her feel safe and welcome."

"Of course we will." Andre picked up the controller when Carl wasn't looking. "I'll help her with our math. It's totally complex and a nightmare, but I get it. Sorta."

"Sorta? Yeah, so much confidence there," Carl teased.

"Says the guy who's two options from dying." He pointed to the TV.

Michonne shook her head. "All right, no more fighting. It's just a game. I'm going to check on Judith then call Lori, and we'll go out to eat."

"With my mom?" Carl's brows rose. "She's okay with us going out together? All of us?"

"We have patched our relationship," Michonne informed them. "And we need to get out of this house. We'll bring a doggy bag back for Rick."

"Like all of our leftovers? Or a meal of his own?" Andre joked.

"Go get dressed." Michonne shook her head and smiled. "Now, or no dessert."

"Whoa, whoa, don't talk crazy." Carl jumped up and over the back of the couch, hurrying to his bedroom. "Dude, hurry up!"

"You're the one blocking the door!"

She laughed. "Fools." Kids were a trip, she swore. If she told them it was raining Skittles, they might actually believe her. She was grateful to be able to spend the weekend with them. After what happened with Meghan, she needed to be with her kids right now. Rick had to work, but once this case was put to bed, he'd be spending a lot more time with the boys and Judith. They missed their father, and Michonne missed Rick too. They had such trying, time consuming jobs, and she hoped once this was done, she'd have time for just her and Rick. Lord knew they needed it.

"And don't forget your jackets!"

"Okay!"

– – –

"I made you soup." Lilly set the tray down between her and Meghan. "You didn't eat breakfast. I saw the birds with your toast, so I thought something less heavy would be better."

She lifted her eyes. "I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"You're not hungry, or are you starving yourself?"

"Mom, please." She was whispering, tears glistening in her eyes. "I just want to be alone, okay? No food, no tea, no pills. I want to be alone!"

"You don't get to be alone, Meghan, not after what happened the last time!"

"You think I want that to happen again?" She flung herself off the bed and whirled around. "I—I don't want that to happen to me ever again! Or anyone else! I—I'm starting to remember it, and what they did—what _I_ did... God, Mom, you don't even know!"

"I _do_ know. That's how I got pregnant."

"No, it's not the same!" she cried. "I—I saw the other girls. They were all crying, and I could hear them being beaten. They said it was okay, the bruises would heal before—before...they were put out, like they were product to be sold, not people! I could hear them crying for help, begging for me to help them, but I was so...out of it that I just laughed! I _laughed_ at them, Mom! At those poor girls!"

"It was the drugs."

"That doesn't make it okay! I did a lot of stupid things because of the drugs and the booze!" She was sobbing and screaming and shaking. "I had sex with a complete stranger! You can pretend I didn't, but I did. I remember what it was like, and I can sometimes smell his aftershave, and I feel sick to my stomach."

She lowered her eyes. "Meghan—"

"You knew Dad. You ran off with him, but I did not run off with whoever the hell that guy was, okay? I—I met with one of Malick's friends, but I didn't plan on staying. I think...he slipped me something, and I remember a club and him dancing with me and—and kissing me then someone grabbed me. Some hooded man, and the next time I know I'm in that house." She swallowed hard. "I was in his bed, and he came out of the bathroom and..."

"You don't have to tell me."

"But I do." She looked pale. "He was nice to me, offered me food and drinks, and he kissed me. He didn't push it, but I did. I don't know if I was still on the drugs or not, but I kissed him, and I didn't tell him to stop when took off my shirt."

"Okay."

"I liked it at first. The attention, the look he gave me, and when I..." She couldn't say it, but she knew her mom understood. "But after he didn't stop. I know how sex goes, and I know when it becomes rape, and I wanted him to stop, but I couldn't move. I felt...frozen, and it hurt so much... He dug his nails into my wrists, and when I told him to stop...he just... I don't know, but it hurt even more, and he wouldn't let go of me.

"When I began to fight, I think that's when he started drugging me. I tried to run...but he caught me. That's why I have so many bruises." She folded her arms over her chest. "He said I had to stop, because I was a good product. They could...present me as a virgin for a long time, make extra money off of that, and he...was just there...ensure I gave their future clients a good time and a reason to come back."

Lilly swallowed to keep from heaving, and she buried her face in her hands. "Jesus."

"He said I'd never see you again, and it was my fault this was happening; and if I wanted it to get better, I should just...accept that this was the way things were now. Maybe when I was older, I could lure in more...product."

"He's going to prison, Meghan."

"I know, but I want to testify."

"What?" Her head snapped up.

"I want him to pay," she spoke through clenched teeth. "I want him locked up, and I want to help do that. He took...so much from me, and I know I shouldn't get revenge, but I need to do this, Mom, please!"

"I don't—"

"He drugged me, kept me locked up, my...my body turned against me over and over, and I can't wash it or him off of me. I've tried, but it's not working! I need to do this! I need to be able to...look at him and not feel like his victim or toy, please!" She was pleading. "I already lied about it not being rape, because he made me think it wasn't! Because he's in my head, and I can't get him out! I tried everything, but I remember him and how much it hurt and how body wouldn't stop... It wouldn't stop, even though I hated it!"

Lilly embraced her daughter tightly. "I know, baby. I know."

"I can't live like this, Mom. I can't!" She sobbed. "I don't want to remember, but it keeps coming back. It keeps coming back."

"Okay." She held her closer. "It's okay. We'll talk to Rick. We'll do our part to lock him up. I swear. I swear."

She gasped deeply and wailed for the first time since they told her what happened. She wanted it all to stop. She didn't want to remember it. Him on all over, inside of her, breathing in her ear, chuckling. He laughed every time her body betrayed...said he knew she liked it, and she felt like a prisoner in her own body. She was trapped in that house and in her body, and now she was just trapped in her body. She needed to be able to fight, to help put him and his disgusting friends away. She had to do this. Whether or not it was the first step in her recover, she had to do it. For herself and for the other girls.


	25. The Sun In The Storm

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

Tara entered her apartment and found Denise inside with pizza and pop—water, for herself, of course. She grinned widely and removed her coat and scarf, tossing them on the arm of the couch. She would hang them up later, but for now she had a blonde to greet and words weren't how she planned to do it. It'd been a long day, and she just wanted to curl into bed with her and do something. Hell, it didn't even matter what they did.

Tara greeted her with a kiss. "How did you get in here?"

"I had the super let me in. I may have lied and said I was a potential roommate and wanted to look over the apartment. I must have an honest face, because she let me in here without even questioning me."

"Or Lilly told her about you. She chatters to anybody who will listen, and the super is one of those people." She hoped anyway. If not, she needed to talk to her super about letting people into her apartment when she wasn't home. She didn't want to come home and discovered she'd been robbed because her super let just anybody waltz through here. She had nothing of real value but still. She really liked her couch.

"That could have been it too." She gestured to the white and red pizza box laid out on the coffee table. "I wanted to cook, but my session ran late, so I figured pizza would do."

"It smells great." She met her eyes. "Why don't we take this to the bedroom? I assure you it's nice and comfy."

"You eat in your bed?"

"Of course."

She smirked and drew Tara closer. "But I have other plans for your bed tonight, and I'd rather not crumbs and sauce intervene."

"I suppose the couch will just have to do."

"I suppose so." She kissed her tenderly and smiled, stroking her cheek. "I know we were just together last night and this morning, but...it's good to see you."

Tara nodded. "I know what you mean. It's nice coming home to someone."

She stepped back and grabbed a couple plates from the kitchen and pursed her lips, her curiosity getting the better of her. "When was the last time you had someone to come home to?"

"I haven't had someone to come home to ever really." She kicked off her shoes and plopped onto the couch. "I mean...there was one woman I lived for a little bit, but...it's been so a while since then."

"You lived with someone?" She set the plates down and opened the lid, revealing the delicious meal they were about to ingest. "Who was she?"

"Alicia." She folded her legs underneath her and accepted the plate with the slice of pizza on it from her girlfriend. "She was my last serious relationship."

"Oh? Well, what happened?"

"We...fell out of sync." She shrugged a shoulder, trying to play it causal.

"How long were you two together?"

"Uhh, I dunno. Like three years or so."

Her brows shot up to her hairline. "Three years?"

"Yeah, I guess it was a long time." She sheepishly smiled. "I don't believe in "the one" or anything like that, but I figured Alicia was it for me. We met and hit it off right away. She was so beautiful and called me out on my bullshit. She was one hell of a woman."

"You loved her?"

She nodded. "I really did. She was the opposite of me in nearly every way, and people said it'd be the end of us. We were too different. She was the type to follow and do whatever she was told if she believed in the cause enough, and that's not who I am. She could be ruthless, relentless, and she always made me feel safe, that was for sure." She sighed and tucked loose hair behind her ear. "She had such passion, and I admired her for it. She would go on rants and raves about this and that, and she really wanted to make a change. She did, in a way."

"Passion isn't always a good thing," Denise commented.

"True."

Denise could see she wasn't going to say more, so she changed the topic. "Why did you break up?"

"We grew apart. The job pulled me in one direction, and her passion pulled her in another. We fought all the time, she'd say I didn't support her or have faith in her, and she'd end up in tears, screaming at me. I couldn't even fight back. I was too exhausted from work to fight." She began to lose her appetite at the memories flooding her mind. "Eventually...it came down to her or the job. We were having a good time, enjoying dinner, and my phone rang. She wouldn't let me answer, just thew the ultimatum at me, but I couldn't ignore the Captain. I couldn't ignore my training, and I told her we could talk about it later.

"But she didn't want to talk about it anymore. She told me to answer the phone, that it was okay, and I thought she meant me answering the phone. I thought she meant going to the crime scene and doing my job." She lowered her eyes. "She really meant...it was okay for me to choose the job over her, and by the time I got home that morning, she was gone."

"Oh, God."

"She made me realize then that I probably won't..." She trailed off, not wanting to let Denise know about her reservations on relationship as a cop. "Uh, never mind."

"You can tell me."

She blew out air. "We had a lot of plans, you know? We used to talk about getting married and adopting kids and moving into a bigger place to raise our family and to grow old. We used to talk about it all the time in the beginning, but near the end we stopped. We pressed pause on that part of relationship, and once we broke up, I figured I wouldn't have that. I'd just have Meg and Nate. I'd just be Aunt Tara."

"You want kids?"

"Just one," she murmured. "Maybe two, but I dunno. It's been a while since I've even thought about it."

"Hmm."

"Why do you ask? You don't want kids?"

"I've never thought about it," she admitted. "I don't really have time for relationships, and the ones I've been in typically didn't last long enough to even consider adoption and marriage and living together."

"So I have more experience than you? Granted she did leave me, but still."

"So it seems." Denise bit into her pizza.

Tara met her eyes. "I hope this one has a better chance than that one."

Denise flushed. "Me too."

– – –

"How are you feeling today, Meghan?" Eric smiled warmly at the young girl, finding his seat and motioning for her to sit too.

"I'm okay."

"All right." He leaned back. "So, how did you sleep?"

"Eh." She shrugged a shoulder. "Mom won't let me take the pills they prescribed me to help me sleep, so...I don't really."

"Why won't she let you take the medication?"

"She thinks I'm an addict." She ran her eyes around his office, finding degrees and pictures on the walls. "It's not like I took those pills willingly. I did at first, but only one or two."

"Why'd you take them?"

Her eyes found his, and she sighed. "I don't know."

"You do know."

"Okay, so everyone else was taking them, and I didn't want to be left out. Bandwagon."

"You took the pills, because you didn't want to feel like you do."

She shifted in her seat. "Like what? What do you think I'm feeling?"

"I'd say you have high anxiety, which is why you're picking at the hole in your jeans, and I'd say you feel an overwhelming sadness. I suspect you don't know why either."

"Well, it could be my rape or my kidnapping or my memories of being held in a dingy little house plaguing my waking hours." She shrugged. "I mean—and I'm just spit balling here—but I think it could be one of those."

"You felt like this even before all of that." He noticed she paled. "You're not the type to hide behind sarcasm. Don't channel your aunt. Tell me about you. Be you."

"Why?" Her voice was hoarse, and tears sprang up behind misty eyes. "I suck. I'm a stupid girl who was nearly prostituted out!"

"You don't suck."

"You don't know me!" Meghan erupted. "You don't know the first damn thing about me, so don't pretend you do! I'm a moron! I let those things that happened at that house happen, because I'm so stupid! I caused my mother and aunt so much pain and worry. If I had been killed or—or sold...my mom would never have recovered."

"A lot of people were worried about you, because they care about you."

"Well, they shouldn't. I'm just an idiot who got what she deserved."

"You didn't deserve what happened to you."

"You don't know that I didn't," she retorted.

"What could you have possibly done in your fourteen years of life to deserve being kidnapped, starved, drugged and repeatedly raped?"

She was silent.

"You want to blame yourself," he inquired, "why? Is someone blaming you?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "People say things."

"What people?"

"The girls I got to school with. I went with my mom to get my missed work and the work for the next couple of weeks, and I heard the girls talking about it. They said I should be grateful. I lost my virginity to a hot guy, that they wished they were so lucky." She rolled her eyes, a tear slipping free. "It wasn't like they think. I don't know what they're watching, but they're wrong to wish that, to think that!"

"They are."

"But how can I tell them that? How can I make them understand any of it when I initiated it? I wanted it?" She buried her face in her hands. "I want to testify against him, but it doesn't look good. Mom won't say it, but I know. I was drunk and high and asked for it."

"You were drunk and high and unable to consent, and on top of that, you're a minor—fourteen years old—you can't give consent. He supplied the booze and the pills; he's the one to blame here, Meghan, not you."

She peeked at him without saying a word.

"You can't hold yourself responsible. You were lured in by predators. You were selected by body type and age, and they seduced you and the other girls. None of you are to blame. You could have done things differently, like tell your mother about Malick, but that's all. They would have persuade you, had you gone willingly or ran. They had you in their cross hairs, and...they pulled the trigger. It's not on you."

"So even if I told my mom or backed off, they still would have come after me?"

"Yes. That's how they operate. They find their targets and close in. Willing or not, they would have taken you and done what they did, perhas even worse as you would have resisted." He searched her eyes. "There's nothing to blame yourself for."

"There's plenty to blame myself for," she argued.

"Well, it's a good thing we have half an hour left and Thursday." He smiled. "I'll prove just how wrong you are."

She faintly returned his smile. "Good luck."

––

Tara spoke with Lilly the following week, the trial was starting on Thursday, and she'd just learned that Meghan was going to testify against the young asshole. She didn't know what she going to say to try and deter Lilly, but she learned that this was something Meghan needed to do for herself, for her recovery. She didn't approve, not one single bit, because the defense was going to tear into her. They were going to chew her up and spit her back out. Tara wasn't sure she would be there to witness it and not want to punch the little weasel out. She might have to call Denise on the day to come and keep her calm.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Tara looked over her niece who was about to do a mock testimony with Barba, and somehow Meghan looked even younger. Lilly had clipped her hair back out of her face, braiding it down the back, and she wore this little blue pant suit. She looked all ready for Halloween as a business woman, and it was adorable. It would make the jurors feel dreadful for her should the defense tear into her like Tara knew they would.

"I'm sure." Meghan nodded. "I need to do this."

"I'm going to be right here."

"I know." She smiled and hugged her aunt tightly. "You and Mom both."

"Yeah." She smoothed her hair down. "And on the day you'll have me and Noah and Beth and Denise and Mom. We'll be here for you. Hell, even my whole squad will be here for you, kid."

"I know." She squeezed her. "I'm ready."

"Okay. If you want to stop, just let us know."

She nodded.

"It'll be rough in there, kid, and during you won't be able to stop, so be really sure you want to do this."

"I know, Tara, but I do."

"Tough little cookie." She released her. "Go on now. I'll wait out here, and Lilly's inside."

She nodded and pushed open the door, finding her mom and Barba speaking. She inhaled, praying this breath would give her the strength to see this through, and she joined them. Lilly smiled encouragingly at her, and Barba smiled as a hello.

"You must be Meghan. I've heard a lot about you." He held his hand out for her to shake, and she did. "Good handshake. Firm."

She laughed a little. "Thanks, I guess."

He pulled her closer and led her over to the stand where she'd be sitting and questioned tomorrow. "Are you ready for this?"

She felt her knees trembling. "Y—yeah."

"That's not too assured."

"I'm a little nervous."

"That's okay. Everyone is." He had let go of her hand and met her eyes. "The trick is to just be honest and say your part. It doesn't matter how many times he asks you the question or how many ways, just tell your part honestly. You can't go wrong with the truth."

She nodded. "Right."

"Get up there, and we'll go over it until you're confident."

She nodded again and took the stand, sitting down and resting her hands in her lap.

"Speak clearly and loud enough for everyone to hear you." He approached the bench and winked at her, and she smiled a little. "Now, state your name."

––

It took a full two and half weeks for these fuckers to go to trail due to the severity of the charges and how odd they were pinned to each creep. It gave Tara a headache to think over what man was charged with what, and she was just glad for this day to finally be here. They'd waited along enough, and these assholes needed to be brought to justice before Tara played on her urge to knock the teeth down the throat of one cocky ass blonde.

Meghan testified against the asshole whose name Tara refused to linger on once she learned it. The defense had been brutal, causing several of the girls who were behind Tara and Lilly to bust out into the tears at their memories, and Tara could see it weighed on him. She understood it was just his job. He was hired to defend this man, but good God. She had tell Denise to keep her hand and yank her down if she tried anything, and she'd never been more grateful to be surrounded by family and her team. Lilly had her other hand, and she told her the same, though Noah was on the other side with the same instructions for Lilly. They probably should have put Sasha between them. Mama Michonne and Rosita were ready to jump the man with Lilly and Tara for the panic attack he'd given Meghan in having her recall the events at the house. She struggled through it, but she managed.

Now it was time for the big finish. Lilly held Meghan close, Tara couldn't be sure who was holding the other one's hand tighter, her or Denise, and they all said a silent prayer that the jury wouldn't be fooled by his baby face, money and silver tongue. The other men had gone down for their crimes, and now it was his turn. Please don't let that damned mask win!

"We find the defendant not guilty on the charge of kidnapping," the female announced.

Meghan's heart dropped, and she hugged her mom tighter.

"We find the defendant guilty on the charge of rape—"

There was a loud cry from multiple parents who had been to all the trials for these fuckers, Lilly and Meghan both turned to hug Tara, and Tara pulled Denise in to it, refusing to be the only one crushed by this group hug, and Michonne and Rosita listened for the other charges he was found guilty on. Noah held his breathe until the judge said how long this asshole would be locked away, and when it left his lips, his heart nearly stopped. Justice had been rightly served in a rape case. He'd rarely seen that happen, but hot damn, it just did.

Meghan wriggled free from the group hug to approach the girls who had come to her trial, and she apologized for her behavior at the house. Lilly and Tara watched the girls speak for a short time, ending with a brief hug, and Meghan waved as they departed. Lilly wrapped her arms around her brave little girl, Tara thanked her team for being there for Meghan, and they headed out to grab a celebratory dinner.

Tara stopped and glanced back. "I'll catch up in a second."

Denise nodded. "Okay."

Tara caught Barba before he headed out and held her hand out. "Thank you for taking this case and for fighting for these girls and my niece."

He smiled somewhat and shook her hand. "It's my pleasure." His eyes moved to the blonde waiting for her, and he picked up his briefcase. "Take care of her, okay?"

"I will."

– – –

Dinner had been great. Meghan was smiling the entire time, Lilly had lost a weight off her shoulders, and they opened a couple bottles of wine. Meg and Nate had their pop, though Meghan seemed grateful to have cola, and Nate was pestering his mom for "the red" stuff she was drinking. He wanted to know if it was blood. Apparently his grandfather told him wine was blood, and you have to drink it to become an adult. The poor kid did not want to grow up now, but that was good. Staying young was good. Well, for some people.

"So," Denise leaned toward Meghan while Tara and Noah and Lilly lightly argued over the bill, "how are you feeling?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure. I'm happy he was found guilty and will be locked up for a long time, but... I dunno. I guess I expected to feel...better about having beaten him or something." She traced a line in the precipitation on her glass with her fingertip. "I still feel the same, though."

"It'll take time for you to find yourself feeling "normal", but it'll happen." Denise smiled heartedly at the young girl. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Healing takes time."

"How much time?" She peeked at the woman sheepishly. "I feel like I should be better now. I feel like Mom wants me to wake up and be okay again, but I don't know what okay is. I don't know if I will ever feel or be okay in the way I used to be again, and I'm scared."

"Why are you scared?"

"I'm scared I'll lose my friends. After what happened...nobody's visited or called me. I've tried to chat with a few via text, but no one replies. I'm like a leper or something."

"Your mom asked your friends to give you some space is all. She was just trying to keep them from asking you about the kidnapping and assault. She's trying to protect you."

"She always is." She smiled faintly. "Do you think Carl will still be my friend? And Andre? I mean, will they only stick around 'cause their mom works with my aunt?"

"I think Carl and Andre will want their friend to be okay," Denise replied. "And I think they'll be your friends, no matter who your aunt or their mom works with."

Her smile widened. "Really?"

"Really. I've met them, and they're good kids. They'd probably be calling you twenty-four seven if their mom allowed them to."

She nodded. "Thank you, Denise."

"It's the truth. You don't need to thank me."

Tara smiled at the sight of Meghan and Denise chatting softly, and she decided to let Lilly and Noah continue to argue while she paid for dinner. They could make it up to her with great birthday gifts. It was too good of a night to argue, even playfully, so she was paying. Then she was going to walk Lilly and Meghan to their car and say good night. She only hoped Denise didn't have plans on saying good night just yet.

"You're underhanded," Lilly mused on the walk back to the car. "I should have known you were up to something. You were being too quiet."

Tara set her hand over her own chest. "It's not my fault you and Noah aren't mature enough to let me pay the bill without using dirty tactics."

"Uh-huh." Lilly rolled her eyes and stopped by the car. "Well, thank you. It was a good night."

"Thank Denise. She suggested the place." Tara smiled sweetly at her girlfriend.

"Actually, I would like to have you over for lunch tomorrow," Lilly remarked. "Just you, not Tara."

"Why?" Tara narrowed her eyes.

"It doesn't concern you." Lilly smirked. "I just want to have lunch with her. Can you make it?"

"Yeah, I should have some time on my hands tomorrow around one." Denise nodded.

"Great."

"Don't trust her alone with Denise," Meghan whispered. "She's going to Dad-talk her."

"I know, kid." Tara tossed an arm around her shoulder. "There's no avoiding it, I'm afraid. Just wait till you find a boyfriend."

"I think I'm off dating for the rest of my teenage life."

"Good. I can't legally run background checks on all the little immature teenagers you might date." Tara smacked a loud kiss to her temple, Meghan groaned and tried to escape, but Tara wouldn't let her. "You're my most precious niece. I'd have to kill them."

"I'm your only niece."

"So?" She freed the girl and smirked. "Still my favorite."

Meghan smiled and hugged her tightly. "I love you, Aunt Tara."

"I love you too, kid." She squeezed her and kissed the top of her head. "You get some sleep tonight, okay?"

"I'll try."

Tara released her and smiled. "Good night, kid."

"Good night." She turned to say goodbye to Denise while her mom pulled Tara aside.

"What's up?" Tara studied her sister.

"Nothing." She embraced her. "Thank you for being here today."

"Of course. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"I know." She stepped back. "Now, get home safe, okay?"

"You too." She narrowed her eyes. "And don't Dad my girlfriend tomorrow, okay?"

She sucked air through her teeth. "I can't promise I won't. Sorry, _kid_."

"Get out of here." Tara playfully pushed Lilly toward her car. "Good night."

"Night."

They watched Lilly and Meghan drive off, Tara stood there for a moment, processing the events of the day, and Denise exhaled beside her, a puff of white chasing her breath. They ambled toward Tara's car, and Denise looped her arm through her girlfriend's, enjoying the first silence of the day. It was silence while the jury was in deliberation, but it was a compressing silence, not like this. Serene. Hopeful. Warm. It was nice.

"All right," Tara broke the silence, shifting to face her girlfriend beside her car, "one question."

"And what would that question be, detective?" Denise cocked her head to the side, thoroughly amused by Tara's expression and tone.

"It's a very complex question. You might have to think on it." She wrapped her arms around Denise and smiled gently. "I'm not sure you can handle it, to be frank."

"Oh, well now I have to know what the question is."

"Okay." She sighed dramatically. "I think you can handle it. Maybe."

"Just lay it on me."

She nodded once. "Your place or mine?"

"Wow, that's a tough question. You were right. I can't handle it." She laughed through her words, and her hands found Tara's weather-chilled cheeks. "But I'm definitely leaning towards your place."

"Mine, huh?" Tara leaned closer. "Why mine?"

"Because," Denise whispered, "it's closer."

Tara bobbed her head. "That's a good point."

"I know." She kissed her. "I make many good points. Remind me tell you about them."

"I'm sure I'll be far too distracted to even speak."

"I'm sure you will be too." Denise kissed her once more. "Let's get out of here before we break any laws."

"As you wish." Tara unlocked her car, and Denise rolled her eyes, smiling. "Your chariot awaits you."

"My chariots needs some color then."

"Hey, don't insult the car. It can hear you." She patted the window. "It's okay. She didn't mean it."

"Yes, I did," Denise whispered at the car before stepping off the sidewalk to walk around to the passenger seat.

"Okay, if it doesn't start," Tara opened her door and jokingly glared at her, "we know who's to blame."

They climbed inside, Tara flicked on the heat at the feel of Denise's cold hands moments ago, and she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. Denise looked over at the sound of it, and Tara dug it out, seeing it was Espinosa.

"What is it?" Denise searched her face. "Is it a case?"

"No." She texted back and set her phone down. "She wanted to see how Meghan was doing. She couldn't make the trial or dinner."

She nodded. "You seem close."

"Me and Rosita?"

"No, you and your whole team. I knew you all were close, having worked with Sasha and being friends with Rosita, but seeing it and being around it really shows how much. It's incredible." She reached over and grasped Tara's hand. "It's reassuring too."

"Reassuring?"

"I know they'll have your back through anything. It doesn't make me worry any less, but I know I don't have to worry about you ever going in alone."

Tara brushed her thumb over Denise's knuckles. "I know dating a cop isn't easy, and I can't say I'll be okay, but I'll always do everything I can to come back to you and my family."

A light pink burned against those honey freckles, and Denise grinned broadly. "Well, that's good to know." She laced her fingers through Tara's. "And I'm always going to be here for you, Tara, no matter what happens."

"I know, and even if you tried to leave, I'm a cop. I can track your ass down." She smirked.

"You're lucky I like you and your sarcasm." She pulled her hand free to buckle herself in.

"You're the lucky one to have all of this." She waved a hand over herself, grinning like a goof.

Denise giggled. "Shut up and take me home."

"I thought we were going back to my place." She paused in reaching for the steering wheel.

"I meant your place." She moved blonde hair from her face, not seeing the tender affection in Tara's eyes.

"Okay." Tara's goofy grin melted down into a barely there smile she'd only given once before in her life, and she knew what she'd told Lilly the other week had been accurate. She could really love her. "Let's go home."


	26. A Girl Like Me

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

Tara circled the twenty-fourth of May, which was in a couple weeks. She had plans to take Denise out to dinner. They'd been dating for two months now, and she wanted to do something special. She wanted to have a good time, do something outside of the apartment, and the twenty-fourth would be a good time to do it. If no one was brutally murdered, of course. That would put a hitch in her plan.

"Hey, Tara?" Denise strolled out of the bathroom in sweat pants and a t-shirt, hair messy from their lazy weekend.

"Yeah?" She lifted her head from her phone to meet her gaze. "What is it?"

"Have you seen my bag?" She leaned against the wall. "I can't find it."

"It's probably on the couch. Why? Are you leaving?"

"No, I need to brush my teeth." She covered her mouth with her hand with Tara neared. "I have terrible morning breath right now."

"I doubt that."

"I do. This is why I try and wake up first. I don't want you to smell it."

"You're adorable." She kissed her forehead. "I'll let you brush your teeth."

"Thank you." She hurried to the living room to fetch the bag before Tara tried anything. She'd learned in the last couple of months that Tara was sneaky, and she really wasn't looking to be kissed right now. "I have to stop by my apartment, so I have to leave soon."

"Okay."

"I'll be working a little late too." She dug out her toothbrush and met Tara on the way to the bathroom. "So I don't know if I can make our dinner plans."

"Denise, it's all right. I have court at eleven, and I have to take Meghan to Eric too. I also need to do some laundry, so it's fine. I'll call you tonight. Or you can call me since you're the one working late."

She smiled. "All right. I'll call you then."

"Go brush your teeth so I can at least kiss you goodbye."

"So bossy." Denise stepped into the bathroom.

"You'd be bossy too if you only got to see your girlfriend once in the morning," Tara mused. "Besides I need to shower, and it's not getting late, but I told Meg we could grab brunch."

She nodded, scrubbing away at her teeth.

––

Tara finished in court, texting Meghan to meet her just inside the lobby of apartment in ten minutes, and she dug out her keys. She didn't want Meghan left out in the open, not since the case, but she didn't want to make her late and cut into Eric's time with another patient. She hadn't anticipated court running so late, but it had. She didn't stick around till the end. Once deliberation lingered into thirty minutes, she knew she had to bail. She had one of the unis text her the results.

Tara pulled up to find Meghan outside, and she climbed into the car. "I told you to wait in the lobby."

"Why? It's beautiful today, and the lobby smells like cleaner."

She shook her head. "Okay, fine."

"I'm okay, Aunt Tara. There are no men around the corner waiting to snatch me up as revenge for testifying. It's been two months since anyway. They'd have to be really thorough in their planning to come and get me this late."

"Don't joke about that. These types of people are capable of anything."

Meghan sighed and rested her hands in her lap. "Mom has a date tonight."

"What?" Tara nearly caused a ten-car pile up at that news, and Meghan laughed under her breath. "With who?"

"Caesar. I heard them talking last night when he came over for dinner, and he asked her out. It's only been about two and a half months." Her lips curved a soft smile. "She was humming this morning. I think she's really excited about it. She had her outfit all laid out, even the shoes, and she packed up some makeup in her bag. I've never seen Mom put on makeup for a guy. For a holiday dinner, birthday parties of her friends, maybe, but never a guy."

"She really likes him." Tara smirked. "I'm sure they'll be happy together."

"Me too."

"All right, enough about Lilly." Tara glanced at her. "How are you today, Meg?"

"A little sleepy. I'm still adjusting to being back in school." She rubbed her arm and inhaled. "I'm anxious about being back, but Carl and Molly and Andre have been great. They don't ask me what happened, and they treat me exactly the same. It's really great, and I feel less like a victim around them."

"I make you feel like a victim?"

"No, not you or Mom or Denise or Caesar or my friends, but some of the teachers and some of students make me feel like a fragile little victim, and it's depressing. I understand that I went through something terrible, but babying me isn't going to make me better. If I tell Mom about it, she'd go off on them, and I'd rather not do that to them. I'm sure it'll pass."

"I could talk to them, if you want."

"No, it's okay. If it gets to be too bad or too much then I'll have you talk to them." She smiled. "You're better at handling people than Mom, but don't tell her I said that."

"My lips are sealed."

Their brunch trip was a success. Tara could see Meghan digging herself out of the darkness a little more each day, and now and that her laughter was real and not reflexive. She could see a new young girl blooming behind those blue eyes, and she was happy to see it. She knew the little niece she had loved and raised and picked on was long gone, but her niece was becoming who she needed to be, and Tara couldn't have been more proud. She was the aunt to this amazing young girl, and she knew Dad must be glowing with pride too. If the Chamblers were anything, they were damn good fighters. Throw them into a pit of sorrow, and sooner or later they'd dig their way out. Lilly came out as a mother, as relentlessly responsible and a nag, but she came out. Tara came out sassing the entire way, and she didn't need to become stronger or fiery or fierce, because she always was. She just had to remind herself of that, and now she had an adorable blue-eyed, freckled flaxen nerd to remind her of that.

As for Meghan, it would appear she was finally accepting reality. Dad was gone. Her grandpa loved her deeply and fought to see his girls every day but in the end he just wasn't strong enough, and it was his time. Lilly was moving on and opening herself up to serious dating, and she may one day have a loving father who'd rather get shot fifteen times than let any harm befall her and her mother. Tara had grown up too and had come to terms with what happened at the start of the year. It didn't matter who or what set things in motion, because at the end of the day the horrors and nightmares would only prepare them for what was to come next.

– – –

"Hey." Lilly embraced Meghan when Tara brought her home that evening and kissed the top of her head. "You two were gone a long time. Should I worry?"

"No. We just lost track of time." Meghan released her mom and sat down on the couch. "Tara told me about her plans with Denise on the twenty-fourth."

"Oh, right. It's the second month mark, isn't it?" Lilly grinned. "What do you plan to do on the twenty-fourth?"

"I dunno. I was thinking maybe I'll do a little dance, make a little love and get down tonight." She smirked and stuffed her keys into her pocket.

"Seriously?"

"No. I have reservations at Denise's favorite restaurant, which is a good thing I did it so soon, because they're locked in for the rest of the month. Or will be soon. Er, anyway I know it's a little soon, but I've decided to let her have a key to my apartment. I trust her, and I know her tells if she ever lies to me. Besides she's too good a person to try and screw me over." She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "And I wouldn't mind her coming over now and then to surprise me."

"Do you love her?" Meghan studied her aunt closely, and she noticed pink seeping through the white on her cheeks. "It just seems like you care about her an awful lot, so...I was just wondering if you did."

"I do care about her," Tara mumbled, her cheeks aflame, and she stuffed her hands in her pockets. "I don't know if it's love yet, but I do care about her. A lot."

Lilly nodded. "Meg, why don't you start dinner? I need to talk to Tara."

"Sure."

Tara followed her sister back to her room, Meghan hopped up to preheat the oven, and Lilly closed her bedroom door. She led Tara over to the bed and motion for her to sit down, but Tara remained standing. Lilly sighed soundlessly and tipped her head back, plopping down onto the mattress with her hands in her lap.

"What is it?" Tara ran her eyes over her older sister. "You seem stressed."

"Do you love Denise?" Lilly instead asked. "I know you said you care, but...you haven't been in love since Alicia. I'm worried you're afraid to say it—to feel it—because of what happened between you and Ali."

"I don't know if I love her or not." Tara lowered herself down beside her sister. "What I feel when I'm with her can't compare to what I felt with Ali, you know? Denise is so sweet and compassionate and intelligent. She's beautiful in ways she doesn't even think to know, and she...makes me feel... I can't put it into words. Be it love or not, I can't put it into words. What we have, when we're together, it's...heady, and I wonder why in hell it took us so long to get here."

Lilly smiled. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "If I do love her, Lilly, then I love her more than I think I've loved anybody I've been in a relationship with. It's been barely two months, so I don't want to be in love. I don't want to freak her out."

"You've known her since the start of the year basically, and it's May now, Tara. And love... If she feels the same way, it doesn't matter if it's been a month or a week." She nudged her with her shoulder. "And I know Denise cares about you just as strongly."

She smiled. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me. I'm just being honest. I'm glad you found her." She heaved a sigh. "I have a problem."

"What problem?"

"Caesar asked me to have dinner with him."

"And?"

"He didn't invite Meghan to come with me. It'll just be me and him, having dinner. It's a date, Tara."

"You like him, don't you?"

"Yes, but Meghan is finally okay again. I don't want to stir the pot."

"Lilly, come on. Meghan likes Caesar. He lets her have ice cream before dinner, helps her with her homework, lets her be and say what she has to. They're friends, and you've seen it. He's a good man, and he wouldn't harm you or Meghan."

"He does seem to have a soft spot for Meghan." She bit her lip. "What if it's more than that? What if he's just using me to get to her? He went all out when she was missing, and he comes by now and then simply to check on her. I hate to have these thoughts, but I have to. After what Meghan went through...I don't want her in that position again."

Tara shook her head. "He isn't like that. He...has his own losses, Lilly. He'll tell you when he's ready, but don't ever worry about that. He's a good man, and he has a father's heart that projecting itself at Meghan is all."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. If I thought for a second he'd do something to her, I'd have him on his ass and in handcuffs before he could even blink."

She smiled. "I know he's a good man, but I've been a poor judge of character before. I didn't want to make that same mistake. Denise told me the same, but I had to make sure."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! You talked to my girlfriend about this before you talked to me?! Your sister?!"

"Well, since our lunch, we've spoken a lot. She's a good friend. She actually gives me helpful advise."

"What the hell did I just give you? A limp noodle?"

"No, but you did give me lice and the chickenpox, and I wanted more than one opinion. Sue me."

"I just might. God, asking my girlfriend first. Next time I'm going to Noah with a problem then maybe you."

"Don't be such a drama queen."

"Why not? You ruined my night."

"Right now?"

"No. The night you spoke to Denise. We had plans, and she had to leave to early. I didn't know why, and I assumed work because she said it was an emergency, but now I know it was you. Asshole."

"I'm sorry I interrupted you have sex with her _again_ , because I wanted to ensure I wasn't welcoming a predator into my home."

"We weren't about to have sex," Tara corrected. "We'd just gotten to her place."

"Tara, she came over to talk to me. She had your shirt on. I recognized the hole in the shoulder. So did Meghan, who came out to get something to drink and grinned at me after pointing it out."

"For all you know I forgot that shirt at her place."

"I'm not an idiot. I may not have had sex in a while, but I do know what people who've had sex look like. And unless Denise is suddenly into polygamy and is bisexual, she wasn't glowing from pregnancy."

"Okay, fine. You were right. Are you happy?"

"No. I'm more jealous than anything." She offered a small smile. "You two are a good match, and you're happy together. You can tell you're both in an honest and sturdy relationship from a mile away. And you get to have sex with someone else, someone who cares about you. That's the best kind of sex."

"God, just put out with Caesar and spare me this conversation."

She glared. "Shut up."

"I'm saying this as your sister, Lilly. Just jump on him. He wants it, you want it, and I don't want to have this conversation ever again. It's a win-win."

"I don't sleep with men on the first date."

"You haven't had a first date since Meghan was teething!"

She groaned. "I'm not sleeping with him."

"You say that now, but I slept with Denise on the first date. I didn't mean to, but it happened. I don't regret it, and it was pretty—"

"Don't talk to me about how great your sex life is." She covered her sister's mouth with her hand. "I'm happy for you, I'm going out with Caesar, and let's leave it at that." Tara glared as she couldn't speak, and Lilly smiled at her. "Say hi to Denise for me tonight, okay?"

She gave a muffled reply, and Lilly laughed, moving her hand. "You're lucky I love my niece or I'd never come over." She rose off the bed. "Have a good night, a good date, and don't call me or Denise tonight. She has a patient at eight in the morning, and I don't want to hear the phone ring."

"Fine. Get home safe, okay?"

"I'm not going home. I'm meeting Denise at her place."

"Just get home safe, Tara," Lilly softly repeated, and Tara nodded with a slight frown. "Say goodbye to Meg on your way."

"Duh."

Lilly smiled at her sister who was leaving, and she could only hope Tara figured out what she meant prior to giving Denise a key to her apartment. For a cop who had to study and figure out what types of relationships the victim had with possible doers, Tara was shit at figuring out her own, that was for sure.

– – –

Sasha gripped the edge of the sink in the bathroom, Bob was in the living room entertaining guests, and she could hear him telling another of his usual jokes. He had a way with people, always shining, always smiling, and she loved that about him, despite having heard this joke about a million times. He always said the same ones. It had lost its humor many, many tellings ago, but the way he said it brought a smile to her lips, and she had a feeling this would too.

She hadn't intended this to happen right now. She just couldn't stop thinking about the pregnancy test sitting hidden in her purse while they talked on and on, and she finally excused herself to use it. She had thought maybe she was. It'd been a while since her last period, and she and Bob had been more intimate since the building nearly crushed Tara. She thought about what she would regret had she been in there and hadn't made it out. That night when she was off the clock and could slip away, she woke him up to talk to him. Though talking turning into sex after she couldn't find the words and decided to simply show him.

It had worked, and it only improved their relationship. They were closer, more intimate, and they hadn't fought about kids or anything lately. Bob had been in such a good mood, and so had she. She was truly happy the last few months, and maybe that's why she wasn't panicking right now. She did want a child with him, in spite of how cruel and manipulative the world was. She would be there and teach this kid right from wrong, and she'd teach them how to protect themselves. It was her job as a mother, after all.

"Christ." A mother. A mom. She was going to be a mom. Wow. Her eyes caught a little number underneath the word pregnant. It was a 3+, and she had to sit down. She didn't know it would tell her how many weeks she might be. She'd asked Rosita and Michonne what they'd used, even asked Tara what Lilly had used, and she went with Rosita's as she hadn't given birth _fourteen years ago_. She didn't care if Tara and Rosita and Michonne knew she thought she was pregnant—hell, from the way they looked at her, they might already have known—because she would start showing.

She stood up and called to Bob from the bathroom door, he and their guests turned to look at her, and Bob politely excused himself, leaving his glass of wine on the table.

"What is it?" He studied his wife. "Are you all right?" He didn't want to say she'd been in the bathroom for a long time, but she had been, and he was worried. He couldn't leave his guests to check on her as he knew she'd left to be alone, and it must have been the right choice to give her some time.

She grasped his hands and led him to sink. "Look."

"Look? At what—?" His eyes landed on the pregnancy test, and his mouth dried out. "You're—?"

"We're going to a child," she finished for him when he stopped. "I'm pregnant."

"You're pregnant." He slowly smiled. "You're pregnant!"

She laughed when he embraced her, lifting her off the ground, and she would have insisted he put her down right now, but she didn't. She'd let him do it this once and hopefully never again. She didn't want to spoil the mood anyway. It was good news. She was pregnant, and they were going to be parents. They were going to be parents!

– – –

Tara was on the phone with the restaurant where she and Denise were going to in an hour, adjusting the cuff to her blazer, and she wanted to check the time she said they'd be there. She wanted to walk around for a little bit before they ate, just to talk to Denise without a crowd, and she wanted to make sure they had time.

"Okay, thank you." She hung up and smiled to herself. She had half an hour now till Denise came over, and they had time to walk around and talk. She just hoped it would be possible. She told Denise to dress up, and she hoped that didn't involve heels. Tara only wore heels when she was undercover and never again. They were torture, and she wouldn't have Denise walk around in them. Denise mostly wore tennis shoes anyway, so if she tried to lie and say she was used to heels, Tara was going to call her out on it. If only to spare her feet.

She tucked loose hair behind her ear and dropped her phone into her pocket, looking for her other shoe. She didn't like dresses and heels, so she wore a blazer and black slacks. They weren't her work slacks. They were nicer than her everyday pants, and they were new. She'd bought them for tonight, and she felt ridiculous to be so nervous. It wasn't as though she was proposing. It was just a key. Just a little metal key.

A knock on the door caught her attention about ten minutes later, she found Denise was early—and in flats, thank God. She showed her in and nearly wanted to ditch their dinner plans at the sight of her. She was breathtaking. She'd never seen Denise in a dress before, and she decided to come up with more dates where they had to get dressed up, because damn. Silver was a good color on her, and she'd worn her hair down for the first time. She always kept it pulled back unless they were in bed, so that was a first too.

"What is it?" Denise felt self-consciousness bubbling up in her chest, and she felt the need to cover herself with a coat or blanket.

"You look beautiful." Tara smiled broadly. "You look really beautiful."

She blushed. "So do you." She reached out and brushed hair from Tara's cheek. "Your hair's getting so long. Are you going to cut it?"

"Do you want me too?"

"It doesn't matter to me. It's your hair, and you look good either way." She pulled her in and kissed her, though Tara pulled back. "What?"

"I already don't want to leave the apartment," Tara replied in a husky whisper, "and if we kiss, we're not leaving. I have plans for tonight, so let's save that for later. Unless you want to forget dinner...?"

She laughed. "Let's get going."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, I want to know more about these plans you have." She kissed her briefly. "Besides I want to go back to my place tonight. There's something I have I think you'll like."

"What is it?"

"You'll just have to wait and see." She stepped back. "Are you ready?"

"Yes. Let me just grab my keys."

"Okay."

Tara swiped her keys from the counter, lacing her fingers through Denise's, and they departed for the restaurant. Denise told her about her day, as they hadn't seen each other for nearly two days with Tara having to attend court again and Denise's patients needing some extra time and care. They spoke via texts and calls, but that was really it. It was good to see each other, to kiss and hold hands, and Tara felt confident in her decision. She couldn't wait to see Denise's reaction to all of this.

"It's a nice night. Do you want to walk for a bit?" Tara inquired.

"Yeah." Denise nodded. "I wouldn't mind to."

Tara was about to point out they were near the park when a young girl stumbled onto their path, and that would have been okay. She didn't run into them. She didn't groan in disgust or comment on them holding hands or anything. Though she was covered in blood and tears, and Tara released Denise's hand to catch her before she collapsed into the street.

"Oh, my God." Denise dropped beside Tara and the young girl who had to be the same age as Meghan. "I'll call 911."

"Hey." Tara searched the girl for any wounds. "Are you okay? What happened to you?"

She said nothing, just cried, and she gripped the collar of Tara's blazer, the blood staining her white undershirt, and her green eyes widened.

"Hey, it's okay. You're safe now." Tara smoothed down hair sticky with blood. "It's okay. We'll get you help."

Denise looked over the hollow eyes of the young girl and knew she was out of it. Traumatized to the point of being unable to speak. She couldn't imagine what this girl had been through, and she hoped Tara and Rosita could bring justice to her and to whoever else was hurt.

––

Fourteen-year-old Enid Morris sat in the exam room, the nurses had taken her clothes and samples from her nails and looked for signs of sexual assault. There were no signs, no bruises, no wounds. They'd taken blood samples, trying to see if she had been drugged, but her blood was clean. She was unharmed and willingly mute. Well, perhaps willingly wasn't the correct word here. Denise believed her muteness was due to the shock of the murder she had witnessed or came across.

They soon learned who had been killed when uniforms went to pick up her parents after they didn't answer the phone. Mr. and Mrs. Morris were found murdered in their home. It was a real mess. There was blood everywhere, body parts everywhere, and it would appear Enid had come home to this. She had sat beside them for a time then wandered from the house to where Tara and Denise had been. How she went unnoticed for so long they didn't know, but they had her now. They would bring this asshole to justice. Orphaning a child and leaving that hellish scene behind for her to walk into? Tara would nail his ass. She wouldn't rest until she had him behind bars.

"She won't speak." Dr. S held a clipboard to his chest. "Or write. She hardly even blinks. You won't get anything out of her."

"Maybe because you won't let her bathe," Tara seethed. "She is coated in her parents' blood, and you say she won't speak? Gee, I wonder why the fuck not."

"Tara." Rosita warned. "Don't."

"We had evidence to collect. She was just as much a crime scene as the actual crime scene."

"Well, you're done, right? Let her get cleaned up," Denise prompted. "It might coax her to speak if you let her clean up."

He nodded and sent Amy to get her room, and Tara waited until S was gone to ask, "Have you contacted the next of kin?"

"She doesn't have anybody," Rosita revealed. "Her parents were the only family she had in the entire world. There are no aunts, uncles, grandparents—not even godparents. Social services will be here first thing tomorrow morning."

"We can't leave her here overnight," Tara protested. "She's a scarred little girl. She can't be stuck in a hospital all night."

"I know, and since you've been so vocal I've decided to let you take her for the night. She needs to be protected anyway, as we have no information on this killer, and he may be coming after her next. You can provide a safe environment, and I know how good you are with kids like Enid."

"I can take her home?" Tara pushed off the wall.

"For tonight, yes. She needs a warm bed and a caring shoulder to cry on or scream at, and you're good at providing both." Rosita smirked. "I trust you, now make her trust you and help us find our guy."

"Okay."

"Tara," Denise spoke up from beside her girlfriend, "you can't be serious."

"Why wouldn't I be serious?" She met her eyes. "I can help her, and I want to."

"Tara, this is a huge responsibility. I know it's just for one night, but we don't know anything about this girl or what happened to her parents. For all we knew she might have something to do with it. I know I shouldn't say that, but it could happen. There are more reasons to silence than trauma."

"She weighs what? 100 bucks wet?" Tara scoffed. "If she tries to hurt me, I can take her. I have a drawer to lock my gun in, and I can hide the knives in my kitchen. Plus I'm a light sleeper."

Despite trying to dissuade Tara from temporarily taking the girl in, a private smile crossed Denise's painted lips. "Not always."

"That wasn't my fault."

Rosita rolled her eyes. "Can you two please focus? Least I have to call our department shrink. I'd rather not. She kind of isn't great."

"Sorry." Tara folded her arms over her chest. "And I'll take her in. We'll try and get the story out of her."

"We?" Denise blinked. "Who said I was going to have any part of this?"

"Well, you're a therapist, and you're good with kids. I thought you'd want to help."

"I'm sorry. I have to meet Mr. Walter tomorrow morning, and I'd love to help you with her, but he's been very grumpy and pushy lately. Tonight was supposed to take my mind off of it, but we found Enid." She smiled a little to try and not sound like she ditching her. "Besides you stand a better chance of getting her to talk. You're good at it, so you should have tips on how to crack open her sealed lips."

Tara chuckled and caught her girlfriend's hand before she could walk away. "All right, but I want to talk to you before you leave. Uh, in private."

"Sure." She squeezed her hand and stepped back. "I'll go get a set of clothes for Enid to leave the hospital in."

Tara had changed into a hoodie and jeans from her discarded gym bag in the trunk of her car, handing over her shirt to the nurses in case any DNA or tissue samples had been rubbed onto it. Also there was no getting blood out of white, so why the hell not let them keep it? She would have Lilly replace it since Lilly always bought her clothes on her birthday and Christmas. The only time she got a decent gift was if she gave money to Meghan to buy her gifts. Lilly never learned to branch out in shopping, but at least Tara hadn't had to buy clothes since she was fifteen. At least her closet was lucky.

"Was tonight special?" Rosita asked when Denise headed out. "I'v never seen either of you so dressed up."

"It was our two-month anniversary. I didn't do the month one. I forgot, so I wanted to take her out tonight. I had reservations at her favorite restaurant, and I was going to just take her for a walk and give her a key to my apartment."

"It's only been two months. Calm down, Tara." She smirked, and Tara rolled her eyes. "I'm happy for you two, and it sucks you couldn't keep your plans."

"There's always next time, right?" She flashed a grin. "I'm gonna talk to S about releasing Enid to me."

"I'll come with you."

– – –

It was midnight when they completed everything they needed to do, Enid was given a sedative to help her sleep, and Tara carefully put her in the backseat. Rosita headed to the office to see what Dawn, Noah, and Michonne had dug out—leaving the pregnant Sasha out of the loop for the time being—and Tara met Denise by the taxi she'd called.

"You don't have to use a taxi. I can take you home."

"It's okay. I have to stop by my office and pick up some paperwork anyway, and I don't want Enid to wake up on the trip." She wrapped her arms around Tara's waist. "Besides if I went home with you, we both know what would end up happening."

"I wouldn't make a two dozen pancakes. That was a one time thing."

"You do it every time you have more than one person over for the night. Meghan can't even look at batter for pancakes without gagging."

"I still wish you'd come home with me."

"Well, it's not just you." Her eyes moved to the sedated girl in the backseat. "Don't worry. We'll see each other tomorrow when I try and speak to Enid. We can have lunch afterward."

"Why don't you just meet me at my place tomorrow night? I'll be a little late, but you can start dinner without me."

"Your super won't let anyone in without a badge, and I don't have a key."

"You do now." Tara pulled it from her hoodie pocket. "I was going to give you this over dinner, but Enid happened, so I guess I'll do it over taxi."

She stared at the small, shiny key. "Are you sure about this?"

"Of course I am. Why? Aren't you?"

"Of course. I just wanted to make sure you were." She accepted the key and kissed her. "Thank you. I'll meet you around eight."

"That sounds great."

She grinned. "Do you want a key to my place?"

"If you want me to have one."

"I do."

"Okay then." She kissed her once more, lingering as she had to get Enid home and shower the scent of blood off of her. "Get home in one piece, okay?"

"You too."

Tara watched her slip into the cab, she closed the door once she was inside, and she backed up when it pulled out. That wasn't how she planned on tonight going, but she did get to kiss the most beautiful woman in the room. Now if only she could have gone home with her...

– – –

"What do we know so far?" Rosita ran her eyes over the murder board.

"Enid's parents, Ross and Angela, were killed between five and six pm," Michonne answered. "They were dismembered by a sharp and smooth edged blade."

"We're still waiting on the report," Noah added. "She just gave us a brief summary. She's currently in the process of doing a more detailed report. She wanted to give us something to work with for now."

"She always does when we have a murder like this." Dawn shifted her weight. "I'll was at the crime scene with CSU, and it was...brutal. There's blood everywhere, and there's only one sign of breaking and entering, and it was in Enid's bedroom. It looks like she broke out of her room."

"We can't determine if it was before, during or after the murder." Noah handed the photos to Rosita. "She could have just been sneaking out to attend a party or meet a friend. We can't really say without Enid telling us herself."

"Which she can't do right now. Dr. S seems to think she has trauma-related muteness." Rosita sighed. "I've seen it before, and after seeing this murder scene, I don't blame the poor girl. They were her parents. They were brutalized and dismembered in their own home. Poor kid."

"Or poor doer," Dawn threw out. "We don't know much about the crime, and the only evidence we have is from Enid. We have only her prints on the windowsill, only her prints on the bodies and the doorknobs. If anyone else was in that house, they had to be either damn experienced in murder or a ghost."

"Denise suggested the same thing." Rosita set the photos down. "We can't take it off the table. She could be purposefully keeping silence, trying to hide behind a mask of pity and being the victims' daughter."

Noah nodded. "It's so easy to want to do that, to think a young girl like that isn't capable of a terrible crime like murder, especially the murder of her parents."

"However we've seen this happen." Michonn shifted her weight. "Lizzie killed five people prior to her death, so perhaps Enid saw the story and decided to start her own mini-spree."

"Her parents could have been cruel to her," Dawn theorized, "nudging her to want them to be her first victims, but the only problem with that is...these murders were too good."

"I know what you mean. A child couldn't have done this." Noah rubbed the back of his neck. "And it's not because she's a kid that I think this. It's the way the body parts were removed. It's how the scene was done. It's too...good. It's not a frame job. It doesn't feel like one to me, anyway."

"I'm with Noah. Something about this case is fishy." Michonne stated, "I'll talk to the coroner, see what she found. She's had their bodies for a good two hours by now."

"Take Noah with you. Dawn and I will ride out the scene again, try and picture how this all went down. Call me with news." Rosita picked up her keys on the way out.

"Shouldn't we call in Sasha?" Dawn caught up to the captain. "We already have Tara with a possible suspect, and I'd feel more comfortable if she had one of us with her."

"I'll call Williams in later. I know the sedative Dr. S gave Enid, and she won't be awake for a good while. I trust Tara to take care of herself until then. For now, I just want to know what the hell happened in that damn house."

– – –

In the morning Tara was awoken by the scent of waffles, and she nearly rolled onto the floor. She'd slept on the couch to ensure Enid didn't leave, and she must have slept through the night. She didn't know why she smelled food. She didn't even own candles that smelled that realistic, so what the hell? Did Enid make her murder pancakes?

She stumbled to the kitchen and discovered Denise was the one cooking. "You're here?"

"Is that a problem?" She looked her girlfriend over, trying not to laugh at how the hairs on her head stuck up.

"No. I just didn't expect you." Tara smoothed her hair back into a ponytail. "Is Enid up?"

"She's in the shower."

"Did you go in?"

"I could hear her crying,"

"Oh." She swallowed hard. "So you decided to make waffles?"

"Comfort food always helps, and you don't have anything else."

"True. The waffle iron was a housewarming gift from Noah and wife." She ran a hand down her face and picked up her phone to see if anybody had called. She had a message from Rosita, one she played for her and Denise, and Denise let out a relieved breath at the news. Tara lifted her eyes to the doorway when she heard shuffling, and they found Enid standing there. "Enid."

She wore one of Tara's old hoodies that was left in the guest bedroom, a pair of Meghan's plaid pajama bottoms, her long brown hair damp and wetting the gray material. Her eyes were green and puffy and empty, a paleness settling in her cheeks, and her nose was red from crying. She swallowed and looked from Tara to Denise and back.

"Hey." Tara pushed off the counter but didn't near the young girl. "We made breakfast. I don't know if you're hungry or not, but we have waffles and fruit. I would have gone to the store, but I didn't... I mean, who can expect to prepare for...this type of situation." She cleared her throat and wanted to throw herself out a window.

"I remember you." Her voice was a dry rasp.

Denise looked to Tara then back to the young girl. "We found you last night, Enid."

"No..." Enid eyes were locked on Tara only. "You were outside my house...across the street...upset."

Tara frowned then remembered the murder of Allison Sterling and how she practically fled the scene. She remembered a young girl with her parents, and she met Enid's eyes. "That was you?"

"Yes."

Tara swallowed hard and ducked her head. She first saw this young girl when her world came crashing down, and now they had officially met when Enid's world crashed and burned and bled. She already was prepared to do whatever she had to do to keep Enid safe and close this job, but now it felt personal. She didn't know why, but come hell or high water, this man or woman would be brought to justice.


	27. Stress Test

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

Enid fell silent once more and didn't eat breakfast. She curled up on the couch and gazed out the window. Denise tried to coax her to both eat and speak, but the young girl refused to do either of those. They had received a call and were informed that Enid couldn't have been their killer. The murders had been performed in such a way that only someone with experience could have done it. Experience a fourteen-year-old couldn't have.

Scarier still was when Rosita was looking over the case, it matched several cases in the past. It would appear this was another part of a serial. It'd been considered cold as this particular M.O. hadn't been spotted in the last couple years, but here it was before them now. The same scene every time: two dead parents slaughtered and dismembered and left behind in a bloody display with only one surviving member left untouched. It would appear they used the same weapon each time, if the marks were any indication. She'd have to confirm it with the coroner, but she was certain it could be the same weapon.

Tara and Denise brought Enid to the station for questioning, though the young girl's lips might as well have been glued shut, and Tara stayed with her, offering her a notepad and pen. Denise could see Tara had taken the child, and she was happy for her. Enid had someone good and loyal and considerate looking out for her. She couldn't have better lucky in this abominable situation. Denise hoped Tara's kindness and naturally honest face would urge the girl to speak, to fill in the blanks. Otherwise this case was going to grow rather cold very quickly.

"I don't think this was a one or two person job." Sasha looked up from the reports Noah and Michonne dug out of the warehouse. "This report says a left-handed person did the kills, and this other one says a right-handed person."

"Same here." Noah traced a line with his finger. "This coroner insists the person who killed Mr. Matthews had to be slightly over six feet from how the first wound is inflicted, but the others suggest someone under six feet."

"You think it could be a group?" Michonne lowered her pen. "That'd be odd. For so many people to work together just to kill every few years... What's the point?"

"Why don't we ask the surviving family members?" Rosita entered the room. "I've called a few down to the station. Maybe we can get a grasp on this case with their information coupled with Enid's—if we ever are able to get words out of her. They might know more. Or they could shed some light on the hell is going on here."

"How many is a few?" Noah wanted details.

"Five. Each of you will take one, and I'll take one. Tara's working on Enid with Denise, and I think it's best if we let Tara break down her walls."

"What if she can't?" Sasha crossed her legs. "What if she can't get Enid to talk? The girl went through something traumatic, and if I were her, I wouldn't want to be talking to anybody about anything."

"We have to try," was all she said.

– – –

"I know it's difficult to think about." Tara spoke so only Enid could hear her. "I know you also can't get it out of your head. It's like a scar in your mind, and nothing will erase it." She remembered finding her own father dead in his hospital bed. Lilly had been trying to find her, to break the news, but Tara had walked in after...all of the commotion of them trying to save him, trying to jump start his heart. Get him to breathe. She collapsed and cried until Lilly finally found her and held her and apologized. She didn't know what for, but she suspected it was for Tara having to walk in and find Dad like that.

Enid peeked at her.

"I lost my mom when I was pretty young, and I don't even remember her face or her voice or her hands. I don't remember anything about her. She's just this blur in my head." She rubbed her neck with her fingertips. "It's like there's a glare in her face when I think back. I can hear faint laughter, almost smell her perfume, and I'll see her right in front of me, but this...glare of light prevents me from seeing her face. She's all smiles and black hair, and that's all I can remember. And for all I know my mind made that image up to play tricks on me."

Enid studied her.

"And my dad passed away a while back, and I can remember how I felt when I saw him lying there." A shiver coursed through her, and her eyes burned. "I can remember it as plain as day, and I still have nightmares about it."

She nodded and hugged herself, as if to say she did as well.

"My parents had natural deaths," Tara continued, "but yours were murdered, Enid. We have to bring those men to justice. We have to do everything we can to prevent them from doing this again, and we need to know your side of this. I know it's difficult to talk about it, but you have to try. For your parents, for yourself, you have to try."

Enid lowered her eyes and sat back, hands falling in her lap, and she swallowed, raising her shoulders to let them slump back down.

"We need you, Enid. We need to know what happened to you, what you saw, what you were doing. If we don't have that information, the people who killed your mother and father won't be found. They'll be free to roam the streets and kill again. We have no evidence on them, and for how little we know, they could walk right inside this building and stand in front of us, and we would have no clue who they were." She searched those big sea green eyes and set a hand on her shoulder. "Please, talk to me. I can help. I can keep you safe. You just have to trust me. We have to trust each other."

Big silvery tears rose up in those ocean orbs, and her chin trembled. She covered her face with her hands and shook her head rapidly side to side. "No!"

"Enid!" Tara caught her shoulders and tried to still her, the young girl slipped out of her chair and curled up on the floor, covering her ears, and Tara dropped in front of her. "Hey, hey, calm down. Calm down, honey."

She wheezed and tears splashed down onto her jacket, a sharp, dry cry escaping through her lips, and Tara's heart broke at the sound. "I don't know," Enid sobbed. "I don't know. I don't know. I don't know anything!"

"Breathe, honey, okay? Just breathe."

"I came home, and Mom and Dad were dead." She dug her nails into her scalp and looked at the detective. "I—I came home, and they were...just like that."

"Okay." Tara set her hand on the back of her head and drew her close to hug her. "Good. Good job."

She cried into Tara's shoulder. "I couldn't do anything. They were dead, and I couldn't do anything."

"I know. I know." She held her tighter, smoothing down her hair, and Enid told her she'd fainted at the sight of her parents. That was why she was covered in their blood. She woke up and just...couldn't be in that house anymore. She didn't remember anything after that, just Denise and Tara finding her, and Tara soothed her. She understood partly how the young girl felt. She, too, had lost her mom and dad, though she was young and both deaths were natural. She was an orphan in a way, just like Enid, and she was nobody's little girl anymore. It was just Enid against the world now. Every memory she had now...would be the last she had as Enid Morris. She would become someone else, someone Tara and perhaps even her own parents might not recognized.

This little girl was about to be thrown head first into another layer of hell known as the system, and nobody wanted to adopt fourteen-year-olds. Especially traumatized fourteen-year-olds.

––

Tara relayed what Enid had told her to Rosita and the squad, Rosita had Lerner and Grimes at the house to try and find anything CSU might have missed, and Noah and Sasha were with the coroner. Rosita hoped to find what type of weapon had been used, as it was unique and could be a crucial key to solving this case."I knew you could get that wall down." Rosita grinned at her. "They're sending someone to pick her up at six, so we'll try and get some food into her once Dawn and Michonne are back."

"At six?" Tara echoed. "T—today? Today at six?"

"Yeah." She stopped in reaching for the file at the end of her desk. "You seem upset. Is something wrong?"

"Uhh...I just thought she'd have a little more time before social services swept her up."

"I pulled a few favors to let you keep her overnight, and it's hard to pull favors over there. I need to reserve the few I have, so they'll send someone over." Rosita smiled sympathetically. "You can be there to do introductions, if you'd like. Keep Enid comfortable until she has to go."

Tara nodded. "Okay." She reached over and closed the door to have a word with Rosita.

– – –

"Have you seen Tara?" Denise had been waiting in the lobby of the station for an hour, and she'd finally decided to come and see what the hold up was. "She was supposed to meet me downstairs."

"She left." Michonne was shrugging into her coat. "She had a meeting to get to or something."

"Oh." Denise nodded. "How long ago was that?"

"I'd say twenty minutes or so."

She nodded again. "Well, I should go then. If she's not here."

"Hey, wait a minute." Sasha sat on the edge of her desk. "How are things with you two? I haven't had a chance to ask."

"They're good." She smiled widely, naturally. "We're happy."

"Oh, to be young and in love," Michonne joked, nudging Sasha with her arm.

"Don't. You'll turn the poor woman scarlet." Sasha smirked at how red Denise had become. "It's cute. You two are...cute. You remind me of Beth and Noah in the beginning."

"Only there won't be any surprise babies." Michonne checked her watch. "Crap, I have to go. Lori has the kids tonight, Andre included, and Rick and I have plans. Don't call me, please."

"Get outta here." Sasha teasingly pushed her toward the door. "You're creaking like a door hinge."

She rolled her eyes and strolled out of the bullpen, tossing a goodbye over her shoulder.

"How are you?" Denise asked once Sasha stopped laughing.

"I'm well. I'm about seven weeks pregnant, and so far no morning sickness, though my breasts are so freaking sore. Just wearing this blouse...ooh, God." She blew out a sigh. "Bob's excited, of course. He's all ready to start the nursery and pick out names. We don't know even know anything, but he's on top of it."

She chuckled. "That's a good thing."

"It is." She grinned. "I...I'm really elated right now. Nothing can bring me down, save for poor Enid, but I'm trying to keep a positive attitude about the whole thing. Not an easy task, I assure you."

"How's it coming so far? The case? Uh, if you can even tell me."

"Well, we've hit another wall. We know what type of weapon and where it could have been purchased, but the shop has no records. Rosita drove out with Lerner to try and get their tapes, but they've only had two of these weapons in their store over the past twenty years. It's a shot in the dark, but it's all we have."

"I hope it proves to be a fruitful lead."

"Me too." She glanced at the time. "I should get home before Bob starts calling to see if I'm coming home at all, and you need to get home and tell Tara to get her butt in gear. We need her back here. She's random idea girl, and we need some of those right now."

"Wasn't she here all day?"

"She was in and out mostly. All I know was it had to do with Enid." She rubbed her arm. "She had a complete melt down in the lounge, and Tara took her out to try and calm her down. I don't know if she was able to get her to eat or not, but I hope so."

"So do I. It's not good for her to not eat. She's still growing."

"Exactly, but I understand why she can't. Her loss...what she went through...that's going to either make her or break her."

"I suppose only time will tell." She smiled slightly. "You have a good night, Sasha. I'll try and stop by tomorrow. I know a few therapists who'd be great for Enid."

"You're always thinking of ways to help other people. It's people like you who make the world better."

She flushed. "I'm just doing my job."

"It's not your job to look after every injured bird, but you do it anyway. It's what makes you a good person, and I respect that about you. Enid's lucky to have you and Tara looking out for her. She'll need people like you two in the coming weeks. God knows the path back is hell." She returned Denise's earlier smile. "You have a good night too. Get home safe, okay?"

"You too." She turned on her heel and headed to her car. She smiled at the warm feeling blooming in her chest at Sasha's words. She hoped she could help Enid. If she could then Enid was lucky. If she couldn't...well, Denise would try harder. If she had tried as hard as she had for Meghan, she could do no less for Enid.

About fifteen minutes later Denise arrived at Tara's apartment. She locked her car door and dug out the key Tara had given her last night. She smiled at the small shiny object and padded up the stairs, finding the correct number, and she nearly knocked, but she wanted to try the key out.

"Tara?"

"Hey." Tara greeted Denise with a bright smile, halting on her way back from the kitchen. "I was just about to call you. I'm sorry. I completely spaced on our plans, and then I had this whole mess with Enid. I'm so sorry."

"It's all right." She noted the papers scattered across the coffee table. "What's all this?"

"The case." She collected them. "I was just reviewing the notes."

"You haven't been working it?"

"I have, but Rosita basically put me in charge of Enid." She smiled a bit. "She's a good kid. She and her parents deserved better, which is why I'm reading these notes to try and piece this thing together."

"It'll come to you."

"I hope so." She sighed and met those sapphire eyes. She stood up, pushing the case and Enid out of her mind, and she grasped Denise's hands. "Hi."

Denise laughed. "Hi."

"I don't want to talk about the case or Enid right now." She leaned over and kissed her tenderly. "How are you? How was your day?"

"It was all right. You didn't miss much." She closed her eyes and kissed Tara again, her hands sliding up her torso, and Tara brought her closer, cupping her cheek. Denise pulled back and tilted her head to the side, teasing the brunette by leaning in to kiss her but moving back at the last moment. Tara whined softly, not opening her eyes, and Denise chuckled, working on the buttons to her blouse. "We have unfinished business."

"Yes, we do." Tara opened her eyes and grinned at her girlfriend, kissing her deeply, stumbling back towards her bedroom.

They nearly crashed into the doorway, Tara apologized and flicked the light on, and Denise giggled, moving hair from her face. She said it was all right and shed her jacket, moving to join Tara by the bed, and she watched Tara for a moment. She watched a loose hair fell onto her face, how the light reflected in her eyes, and her heart felt full. She knew then she was beyond smitten with the woman, and there was no talking herself out of it. It would be useless. Tara hadn't stolen her heart, no. Denise had willingly and happily given it to her.

– – –

"So, we know nobody was home at the time of the murder." Tara walked the neighborhood with Noah, having finished interviewing the neighbors. "They were at the movies, and the other house is currently for sale, so nobody was there."

"We're getting nowhere." Noah heaved a sigh. "Rosita and Dawn found the right tapes with our guy on it, but unless they can be cleaned up, they're worthless."

"It can't be that bad," Tara urged.

"Tara, you can't tell a car from a person, that's how cheap and awful their cameras are." He shoved his hands into his blazer pockets. "And Enid doesn't have any new information for us. She was out at the time of the murder, right?"

"Yeah. She'd gotten in a fight with her parents and snuck out."

"Maybe we should ask her if she saw any cars or people outside her house that night."

"She's at the station right now," Tara replied. "We can talk to her then. I'm meeting with the social worker at my place, so Enid'll be there till about eight or so then she's off to this girls' home for a bit."

He stopped walking. "Why are _you_ meeting the social worker at your place?"

"Didn't I tell you?" She turned to him. "I'm adopting Enid."

"What?" he exclaimed. "What? When? Why? How? What?"

She laughed. "Calm down, dude."

"No, no, I won't calm down. Where the hell did this come from? When did this happen? Why did this happen?"

"I was talking to Rosita the other night, and I decided I didn't want to let her go." She met his eyes. "I care for her, and she trusts me. I know how the system works, and I can't throw her into that shark tank. I can't."

"Tara, this is a massive decision."

"I know. Trust me, I know how much this will change my life—and hers—but I'm ready to do this. I want to do this. I want to help her, to stand by her and be the supportive adult she needs in her life right now. I have the room for her, and I don't get paid a lot, but it's enough. I can support both of us on my paycheck, and I can get glowing recommendations from the Captain and whoever else they need one from." She was smiling. "I spend the day talking to Enid about it, and she wants me to take her in. She wants to live with me. She feels safe with me, and she and I have trust. I know we'll be fine."

"So this isn't an impulse decision? Like the time you tried to get your nipple pierced?"

"I was drunk off my ass!" She shot him a glare then lost it as she continued to speak. "I've thought this through, Noah. I've talked to Rosita about and Enid, and the social worker and I will talk tonight. I have to make a good impression, so I was hoping I could run by the apartment and clean it up, maybe throw out some popery or some shit to make it feel more...home-y."

"Wait, wait." He touched her arm. "Have you talked to Denise about this?"

She stared at him.

"Well, have you?"

She shook her head without speaking. "Is that bad?"

"No, no. Of course not. You just decided to adopt a teenage girl and consulted everyone but your girlfriend!" He stared at her now. "What's the matter with you? Of course it's bad! Tara, you and Denise have only been together two months. This is a life-changing decision, one you made without talking to her."

"It's just my life that changes."

"Tara, you and Denise are dating. It affects her, perhaps not as much as it will you, but it still does."

She pursed her lips. "She'll understand. I'm sure she'd encourage me to do this."

"If you were really sure, you would have talked to her about it by now."

"I just forgot. It's a lot of paperwork and demands I have to meet!" she snapped. "I'm stressed out because of this case and our lack of leads. I'm worried I won't be able to adopt Enid. Now you're throwing Denise onto my pile, and I can't handle that right now. God, just let me take this one step at a goddamn time."

"Fine, but just know it's not me you're pissed at." With that said, he ambled down the street towards their car.

Tara pinched the bridge of her nose and cursed.

– – –

"We have a lead." That was how Rosita greeted Noah and Tara.

"From the tapes?" Noah set his coat on his chair and hurried over to the screen to see what they'd found while Tara dragged her feet over. His eyes found a man in a large overcoat with their murder weapon. "Wait, I know that man."

"It's Tommy Payne." Michonne entered the room. "He was missing after a family in his neighbor was murdered. We assumed it was connected, and it was, but not in the way we thought."

"It would appear Tommy joined a cult," Sasha elaborated, throwing down the pictures from the previous cases. "We were able to speak to a former member, and he gave us the gory details."

"Meaning?" Tara met her eyes. "We have our guys?"

"Not quite, but we know them." Rosita pulled up a photo. "They're called the Wolves. They have a W carved into their foreheads, they live off the radar, and their initiation is do find a family—any family—and kill them, leaving only one surviving family member behind."

"What the hell kind of cult is that?" Noah's stomach churned. Damn.

"They've been around for years, and they're good. They prepare for this, perfecting it more and more each time." She gestured to the previous cases. "We were able to find hair and fibers and a partial print on these cases, but this time? Nothing. They're getting good, and we have to stop them."

"The evidence didn't lead anywhere?" Tara inquired.

"No. We tested it against Tommy's DNA from his missing persons file, but no match. It was someone else. Quite a few someone elses, actually."

She sighed. "We have to get them. Where are they holding up?"

"We don't know. The former member wasn't too chatty about that with us. We had to send in Denise, and she hasn't reported back yet."

"What?!" Tara growled. "You sent my girlfriend in to talk to a murdering nutjob?!"

"It's her job," Rosita informed her detective. "And she volunteered. She's a big girl, and she made this choice on her own to help Enid. No harm, no foul. She has a guard with her. She'll call us as soon as she has new information."

She shook her head. "Great. I just feel so at ease."

"It's not like you made a major decision behind her back," Naoh murmured.

Tara shot him a dark look, and he held his hands up in a _I was joking_ gesture. "I'm going to speak to Enid, see if she remembers anything more."

"She's in the lounge." Rosita felt her phone vibrate and answered it, seeing Tara watching her. "It's Spencer."

She nodded and headed to the lounge to find Enid curled up in a chair with the department shrink. "Hey, kid."

She smiled weakly at Tara, wanting her to send the shrink away.

"I've got this, Angela." Tara sat beside Enid. "Why don't you take five?"

"All right then." She left the room.

"Better?"

She nodded.

"I thought so." She turned in her chair. "I have a couple questions for you, Enid."

She moistened her lips and nodded again.

"Do you remember any strange people following you? Or lingering around you the last couple weeks?" She scrutinized her face for any indication of a lie. "Any people in cars? Or on the street?"

She shook her head. "Not that I remember."

"What do you remember? Prior to sneaking out?"

"The fight." She tried to blink the tears back was unable to. "I told my mom I hated her. That was the last thing I said to her. I hate you. You're ruining my life."

"She knows you didn't mean it, Enid."

"I shouldn't have said it. She was right about the whole night, and I shouldn't have said it." She hugged her legs tighter. "I wish I could tell her just one more time how I really feel."

"She knew."

"Yeah, but in her last moments the last memory she has of me is me screaming how I hated her, how she was ruining my life—the life she gave me—all because she wouldn't let me leave the house." She bawled. "I was terrible to her. What I wouldn't give to go back and just...change everything."

"You're just a kid. You made a mistake. She knew you didn't mean it. She probably said that to her own mother many, many times. She knew you loved her. How could she not?" She reached over and plucked a tissue from the box to give it to the young girl. "She knew you loved her, and I bet you were the last thought in her mind."

"You think?"

"I know." She stroked her hair. "I know it hurts. I know you can hardly breathe, but I'm here for you. My team is here for you. We'll find these bastards, and they won't hurt anybody else. I promise you, kid."

"And you'll adopt me?" Enid whispered. "You won't let them take me somewhere...else?"

"I'll try my best."

She nodded and met Tara's eyes, suddenly remembering a man who followed her home from the bus stop. "Wait... He said that too. He said he'd try his best too."

"He? He who?"

"A man in a large brown overcoat. He got off the bus with me, and he kept watching me. I got freaked out, so I got off early and took a short cut to my house." She began to breath heavily. "He—he followed me until I cut through a couple back yards, but I remember that I saw him outside my house a week later. He—he was just standing across the street, and I tried to tell my dad, but he was busy with work. Those are the only times I saw him, but it was definitely the same guy."

"Enid?" She stood up. "Put your head between your knees, okay?"

She shook her head. "He picked me. Out of everyone on that bus, he picked me. He picked my family. He—he—he just chose, and my whole life—my mom and my dad and my childhood home—are gone!"

"Breathe, Enid."

She did as instructed, quaking and sobbing, and she buried her face in her hands. She was just a random face on a bus, but that was enough for this sick asshole to follow her home and plan the brutal murder of her parents. He looked at her and decided she was the one he wanted to orphan. She was the one he wanted to destroy. Her parents were just dead. They didn't feel anymore. They didn't hurt anymore, not like her. She was dying and seething and crumbling all at once, and that man, that son of a bitch, looked at her and said he'd do this best to ruin her.

And he had.

––

"She's knocked out." Tara emerged from the lounge, leaving Angela and a drugged Enid behind. "God, that was the worst one I've seen so far."

"What happened?" Rosita looked in on the child in the lounge.

"She remember a man following her then had a full blown panic attack. She couldn't breath, couldn't stop shaking and crying, so Angela gave her a sedative." Tara ran a hand through her hair. "I don't know how she's going to recover from this, Rosita. I have no fucking clue how that little girl is going to get out of bed and be happy again."

"She'll find a way. It'll take time, maybe meds and therapist, but she'll find a way." She smiled privately at the detective and lowered her voice, "Especially since she'll have you."

Tara couldn't return her smile. "Speaking of, I have to meet the social worker in an hour. I know we have the case, but...if I miss her, I might not have a chance to be there for her."

"Go. We have more than enough people here."

"Thank you." She rehashed the story in detail to Rosita then scurried out of the building to make the appointment. She knew they could solve this without her, and to be honest it might be best if she wasn't there. She'd bonded with Enid the last couple days, and if she saw the fucker who killed her parents, she might deck him right in the jaw. With her gun. Fucker. What the hell kind of people did this? Picked random people out of a crowd and thought about how they'd kill them or someone they loved? Hell, Tara could barely pick a random hot person out of a crowd. It was a good thing she was on this side of the law. She'd make a terrible murder. She'd probably turn herself in _before_ she killed anybody.

She unlocked her apartment door and found it was decent condition for company. She made sure to try and make her apartment feel as home-y and welcoming as possible. She even threw out a few of the lavender candles Lilly had bought her for decoration and to try and fight off the scent of take out. She really did need to start cooking again.

A knock on the door caught her attention, she set her jacket on the hook by the door and yanked it open, revealing the social worker they'd sent. Her heart dropped to her shoes at the sight of her ex-girlfriend.

"Tara." Alicia drank her in and pulled out a smile. "I—I kept hoping it was a different Tara Chambler, but I suppose not."

"Alicia." Tara didn't move a muscle. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm a social worker," she reminded her.

"You used to be a museum guide."

"Oh, right. I used to do this before we met, but I got burnt out, so I took a new job. After we broke up, I...decided to go back to what I was used to." She smiled almost ruefully at the brunette. "It's good to see you."

"It's been a long time." She moved aside to let her inside.

"Only a couple years." She entered the apartment. "Apparently that changes a lot. I knew the address was different, but I assumed your style wouldn't be."

"I had to move. I needed a fresh start after what happened."

"I read about Lizzie and I thought about calling, but I couldn't bring myself to pick up the phone. I couldn't be there for you, not the way I think you need. Then I heard about Meghan." She faced her. "I'm so sorry. I tried to attend the trial, but I had my own part to play that day too."

"It's fine." She shrugged her shoulders. "We were all there for her, and that asshole's in prison where he belongs. It's done."

She nodded. "Well, could you'll tell her I said hi? And I hope she's well?"

"Of course." She motioned for her to sit down. "Could I get you anything? I have water and coffee."

"I'm fine, but thank you." She rested her hands in her lap. "So you're adopting?"

"I am." Tara seated herself in the armchair across from the couch. "Do you know the details?"

"It's hard not to."

"That's true."

"You're very kind." A private and familiar smile crossed her pink lips. "It's good that you haven't lost that."

"Adopting her is as much for me as it is for her. I've always wanted kids, as you know, and I don't think Enid will see me as her mother ever, but I could think of her as my kid. I already protect her like she is."

Alicia nodded. "I have a few more questions for you, some routine checking, but to be honest I don't we'll find a better suited person to take care of her."

Tara smiled and the stress and tension of this interviewed fled her body at those words. She had confidence she could take care of Enid, even if it was a single parent, single income home. She was hoping to convey her determination and her fondness for the girl to the woman, but Alicia knew her. She knew Tara wouldn't do this if she didn't intend to put her entire heart into it, and she was so grateful that it was Alicia. She had hope that this could work out now. She didn't have to worry—much—about telling Enid she was sorry, it didn't work out and having to watch some dreadful social worker drag her off to live with strangers.

People would be understanding to Enid's situation, but understanding wasn't the only thing she needed. She needed patience and support and therapy. She needed to take it one day at a time. She couldn't just jump back into life, and this couldn't be treated like mourning. It was much more than that. Tara knew from experience it was more than that. She had seen kids like Enid, and when the healing process was neglected, to say it wasn't pretty was a vast understatement. These are young children who need a certain amount of care at home and certain amount of care in therapy, sometimes in medication. Sometimes there were other ways to work through it, but it had to be worked through. She couldn't handle Enid becoming like the last child they'd had before he was taken and given to some random family they thought would be a good fit. They just didn't consider his circumstances and his mental stability, and everyone paid for that.

Alicia studied the woman across from her, half listening to the words she was speaking, and she nodded her on. She knew Tara inside and out. She knew her reasons for doing this, and she knew she'd make a damn good parent to the child. She was doing this out of habit and requirement, though she could easily fill in the blanks with how well she knew Tara. She would do her best to ensure Tara and Enid would be a family. Perhaps she could be a part of it too.

"One more question." Alicia clicked her pen. "Why are you doing this? What made you decide to adopt her?"

Tara smiled softly. "I want to give Enid a home. I want her to have somewhere safe to lay her head every night, and I want her to be able to to continue her life. It'll be different, and it'll be difficult, but I feel...close to her. I feel like we're not strangers, and the last thing I want is to ship her off to people who won't be understanding, who might hurt her. I know not everyone is cruel, but enough people are. I want her to be okay, and I know I can provide an environment where she can feel and be secure."

She nodded again. "Okay, well I've seen all I need to see, and I know you want to rush this, but we can't. It'll be a long process, but I'll try and grant you temporary custody of her."

"Temporary?"

"So she can stay with you," she elaborated. "It's just until all the paperwork is filed and all the Is are dotted, Ts are crossed. Like I said, it's quite a long process with a lot to consider."

"Such as?"

"You're not married, Tara, and there's the matter of your income..." She trailed off at the look in Tara's eyes. "I'm sorry, but it's the truth."

"Okay, so I'm not married yet, but I am in a serious relationship. She...wants Enid as badly as I do, and she's a therapist." What the hell was she saying right now? What the hell was she doing? Aside from something so, so wrong. She hadn't even spoken to Denise about this, and she just dragged her right into the middle of it. This was going to come back and slap her in the face.

"You're seeing someone?" Her brows shot up.

"Yes." Tara couldn't keep the smile away at the thought of Denise, and Alicia remained stunned. "She and I live together, and I know it's the same as marriage, but we want a chance to raise Enid. We want to be there for her, to love her, to care for her, to tend to her mental needs. I know there a million better options, but it's just on paper. There is only one great option for Enid, and they were taken from her, so please don't throw away a good option and settle with a semi-decent one."

She nodded. "Okay."

They rose together, Tara hoped she'd made a compelling case, and Alicia pulled out her natural smile, not the work one. Tara walked her to the door, and Alicia shook her hand, thanking her for her time.

"Hey, would you like to meet up for coffee? To catch up?" Alicia offered. "It's been so long, and you've changed so much. I'd like to learned what I've missed, maybe see Meghan and Lilly again."

"Uhh, it's not a good time right now. Maybe once this is settled." She already needed to talk to her girlfriend about dragging her into Enid's adoption before she even told her she planned to adopt.

"That's fine." She stepped closer to her, and Tara eyed her. "It really was good to see you again."

Before Tara could respond, the front door opened, and Tara saw blonde hair in the corner of her eye. She stepped back from Alicia, Denise seemed a bit surprised to find them both there, and Alicia ran her eyes over the woman.

"What are you doing here?" Denise asked Tara, momentarily ignoring the other woman in the room. "I thought you'd be working the case."

"I...am. I just had to...pick up a file from I left here." She gestured to Alicia. "This is Enid's social worker, Alicia Harris. Alicia, this is Denise Cloyd."

"I've heard such wonderful things about you." Alicia shook her hand. "You're highly lauded."

"Am I?" Denise smiled uncertainly at the woman.

"You've helped quite a few of the people I know. Mostly cops, and I just wanted to personally thank you." She glanced at Tara then back to Denise, continuing to smile. "I have to run, file these papers, but it was nice to meet you. I finally have a face for the name."

"Bye." Tara called after her, closing the door.

"And so do I." Denise adjusted her glasses and scoffed. "Do you want to explain? Or lie to me again?"

"Lie?" Tara jolted. "I—I didn't lie."

"I know that was your ex-girlfriend, and you didn't bother saying that when you introduced us. You also neglected to mention that I'm your girlfriend. And why the hell are you meeting a social worker for your case in your damn apartment?"

"I can explain."

"I hope so."

"I'm not cheating on you," Tara stated with a hiss in her words. "I wouldn't do that."

"I didn't say you were. It just doesn't make sense for her to meet you here for work."

This was the perfect moment to tell her about Enid and her plans. She knew work wasn't going to call her just yet, because they were hunting down their perps, and Denise clearly had no plans. Enid was staying the night in a girls' home until Tara was granted temporary custody, so she didn't have to worry about being late to pick her up. It was a perfect moment.

Yet all Tara could do was lie.

"Okay, she came over to ask me out for coffee. As friends. To catch up." She didn't know why she was saying this, but her mouth and her brain were not fucking communicating right now. "She also had to meet me to discuss Enid. She chose to come to my apartment. I guess Captain gave her the address. Or my sister. I don't know, but nothing happened."

"The more you assure me nothing happened, the more I'm positive you're hiding something. Maybe not an affair, but something." She studied her. "What's going on?"

"Nothing is going on."

She didn't believe her, but she didn't want to push the issue. "I came over to make dinner for you tonight, but I can always go."

"What? No, no. Don't leave." She caught her hand. "There is nothing going on. I'm sorry I'm being weird. It's just been a very taxing day, and I have to get back to the station. We still have a case to work, and I have to take Enid to this girls' home to stay until Alicia gets this all sorted out."

She nodded. "Well, if you have time, you could bring Enid over. We could have dinner together. I wouldn't mind."

"Really?"

"Really."

She kissed her as a thank you and as an apology for lying, and she stroked her cheek. "I have to go, but I'll try and be back in time for dinner."

"Be careful."

"I'll try." She kissed her once more. "I'll see you tonight."

She smiled. "Bring your appetite."

She collected her keys and jacket, pausing briefly to gaze at her girlfriend, her heart sinking down in the knots her stomach had become. She wanted to tell her everything right then, but her tongue was swollen, her throat dry, and she couldn't. She gripped the door knob and walked out. Whatever happened next was her own doing, and she knew the cost would be great. She just needed a little more time.

– – –

Tara found the station in chaos, and she had no clue what was going on. She couldn't even catch Rosita to have a word with her, but she did find a few of the cult members there. She didn't know how in hell she'd missed so much, but clearly she had. She had no how they'd found them, let alone how they'd managed to bring them here, and she checked on Enid to see how she was.

"Tara." Enid ran over and hugged her. "They're here. He's here."

She looked up and sure enough there was the wolf in the brown overcoat. He was staring at her and Enid, and Tara shot him a dark look. She guided Enid back to the lounge and sat her down. "Wait here."

"Don't leave." Enid grabbed her sleeve. "Please, please."

"I'll be right back. We need to get a confession out of them." She gently pried her hand off. "I'll only be gone few minutes."

She latched onto Tara against and shook her head. "Please don't leave. Please."

Tara sighed and found Rosita in the doorway.

"It's okay. O'Donnell and Lerner have our suspect, Noah and Michonne have his little friend, and Sasha and I may have the leader. We've got it covered."

"Are you sure?"

"If I need you, I'll come and get you. But for now, why don't you and Enid get out of here? It's not a good place for her to be right now, and you're the only one she feels comfortable with. We'll handle this." She stepped toward her. "Take her home, let her meet Meg and Lilly. She might be family to them one day."

She smiled weakly. "Yeah."

Rosita turned on her heel and headed to the interview room with Sasha. Her eyes landed on a man who sat across from them in a dingy leather jacket, his long hair tangled and left unbrushed with bits of leaves and twigs here and there. He smelled like earth, thankfully didn't reek from the lack of hygiene, and she knew he was the ringleader of these wolves. All she had to do crack him like an egg, and the rest would follow.

Tara led Enid out of the precinct and to her sister's apartment, feeling like she was abandoning her squad when they needed her most, but she was eager to have Lilly and Meghan meet Enid. She had planned to do it later, when this custody situation was settled, but now would do. Meghan was home, and Lilly was home too. At least for a little bit. She had to work tonight, and Jeanette was coming over to watch Meghan and keep her company. So sooner was better.

The introductions were a bit bumpy, as Lilly and Meghan hadn't expected Tara to consider adoption, especially the adoption of a fourteen-year-old girl whose parent had just been viciously murdered. Though Meghan warmed up to her quickly, and that lead Lilly to warm to the girl too. Tara was thrilled at how well they were getting along, especially since Enid was even speaking. Short sentences, but it was better than nothing.

"Tara." Lilly motioned for her to follow her, and Tara found herself in Lilly's bedroom. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"You stop by for a visit with your possible adopted daughter."

"Soon-to-be," Tara corrected. "If I'm lucky."

"Okay, your soon-to-be adopted daughter then."

"You always knew I would adopt someday."

"A baby," Lilly amended. "I thought you'd bring home a little baby, not a nearly grown child who just endured hell."

"I can't help that she's four years from being eighteen, just like I can't help that I feel...a bond with her. I didn't want this to happen, but it did. I'm going to keep her safe, raise her if they'll let me, and I want to. Lilly, I really want this, so please just be supportive."

"I am being supportive. I just...feel overwhelmed. God, you're going to be a mom. My little sister." She smiled at Tara. "I'm proud of you."

She blushed, embarrassment overtaking her, and she ducked her head. "Stop it."

"You and Denise are taking a huge step. How could I not be proud? And a little jealous, but hey, Caesar and I are taking baby steps."

Tara pursed her lips. "Right."

Lilly instantly narrowed her eyes to slits at the tone in Tara's words. "What the hell didn't you do?"

"Uhh...nothing?" She winced a smile at Lilly's scold. "Okay, I may have not told Denise about this decision."

"What is wrong with you?"

"I don't know! It's not official, and I don't think I need to put any stress on our relationship if it doesn't work out."

"Tara, if it does work out, this will be one hell of a surprise for Denise. This isn't like buying a puppy. It's a child. It's a walking, talking, growing child who needs support right now, not the tension you're creating by not telling Denise you're about to become a mom!"

"Lilly, you don't understand—"

"You can't separate Enid and Denise, Tara. They're both in your life. One might be your kid one day, and one is your girlfriend. You can't pretend they don't conflict."

"God, you and Noah are killing me." She dragged a hand through her hair. "Let me just think."

"There's nothing to think about. If you care about Denise at all, you'll tell her."

"If I care?" Tara snapped. " _If_ I care? Of course I care about her, Lilly. She's one of the best parts of my life."

"Then sit down and discuss this with her."

"I will. I just need a moment. This is a big decision for me too, Lilly. God, give me time to process this. If it works out, if it doesn't." She huffed. "Stop lecturing me, for fuck's sake, okay?"

She wrapped an arm around her sister's shoulder. "I know you can do this. Either way, you will do just fine, Tara. Don't worry so much."

"How can I not? She's relying on me to do this, and I don't know that I can. I don't meet their standards, and she's not...a typical case."

"Hey, it's Alicia. She'll do her best to try and make it work. You may not have ended on the best terms, but she's always had a soft spot for you." She rubbed her back. "It'll be fine. Once it's all done, you'll see that."

"I hope so." She exhaled. "I need something to drink, but I can't drink, so do you want grab a late lunch? I need to distract myself, and I haven't eaten since breakfast."

"Only if you smile."

She smirked instead. "Grilled cheese, please?"

"You eat like a child." She stood up. "But fine."

"Thank you."

Lilly made the grilled cheeses, Meghan found some soup, and they ate in the living room while watching some cartoons. It was the only thing that Tara didn't have to worry about triggering Enid in some way, and she was happy to see her nibbling on her meal. She'd hardly eaten the last couple days so it was a good sign, and she began to calm. She knew it would be a challenging road, but they would get through it. She would, and it'd be okay.

– – –

A week had passed, and the case had been closed. The "Alpha Wolf" didn't break without strenuous effort, but when he did crack, he cracked. He spilled their location, and the fifty members of the Wolves had been arrested and were serving life sentences. The surviving family members had been given closure after all this time, and Tara was grateful to give Enid this closure. She was so proud of her team, and they assured her she had done her part just as much as they had. Yet she felt like she'd slacked, spending so much time with Enid.

"Why did they do it?" Tara cleared the murder board.

"They were trying to return the world back to the animals," Sasha answered. "One family at a time. They left one lone pup to try and survive on its own. I can't claim to understand their thought process."

"They had over a hundred victims, and they could have had a hundred more." Michonne shook her head. "I'm glad we were able to give those people peace after all this time."

"Yeah, me too." Noah twisted his wedding ring. "I can't imagine if this happened to me and Beth, what would happened to Nate..."

"I'd take him." Michonne smirked. "He's so damn cute, and Judith needs a friend."

He chuckled. "Thanks, but Beth and I have talked about making a will. We want to be prepared. We want Nate to be taken care of. Maggie and Glenn are our chosen godparents, so that's one less worry—"

"Yeah, just rub it in my face," Tara teased. "I'm not good enough to take care of your baby boy."

"No, Beth and Maggie just made a deal when they were kids. I can't change her mind. I tried. It didn't work."

"We know who wears the pants in that relationship," Sasha mused under her breath, tucking away the files.

"She has good points," he remarked. "And I know Maggie and Glenn would raise him well."

"They would, but they'd rather you two raise him well." Rosita crossed her arms. "You're great parents, all of you, and even you, Tara. You'll learn how much having a child dominates your life, but it's entirely worth it. You'll love it, even when you hate it, and I'm speaking for all of us when I say you'll be a great mom."

"If it works out," Tara muttered.

"And it will." She sent her a playful scold. "Now go home. All of you. We closed the case. We brought closure. I say we go home and eat and get some sleep before something else happens."

"No arguing here." Sasha stood up. "I am bushed. Good night."

"I'll walk you out." Michonne patted Rosita on the as she passed her.

"I might be able to get home before Beth puts Nate down." Noah hopped up. "If I hurry."

"Take it easy, kid." Tara dropped the files in the box. "I mean it."

"I will." He smiled. "Good night, you guys."

"Night."

"Hey, Tara." Rosita caught her before she could leave. "Here."

She spotted the small item in Rosita's hand and frowned. "What's this?"

"It's a gift. Michonne gave it to me when I had Alejándro, and I'm giving it to you. You can give it to Sasha when she has her baby. It's a kind of a good luck charm. It's been floating around the homicide for years."

She smiled. "Thank you."

"I know you'll be a great mom, as I've all week and many times, Tara, but a little luck doesn't hurt." She placed the item in her hand. "Good night."

Tara ducked out of the building, her eyes landing on the small metal charm, and she found it was bronzed carnation. She knew if she looked up the meaning, it would be thoughtful. Judging by the many scratches and faded design, it'd been swimming around homicide since women had gotten into it. She hoped she could live up to their example, be a good mother, and above all, she hoped to have a chance to be a good mother.

She felt her phone buzzing, and she hoped it wasn't a murder. She just wanted to go home and crawl into bed. "Chambler."

"Hey, it's me."

Her heart stopped. "Alicia."

"Breathe, Tara. It's good news."

"Is it?"

"Well, you have temporary custody of Enid, and with how highly recommend you come, and how respected your partner is, you both should gain full custody of her."

"Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. I spoke to Denise a couple hours ago, and..."

The end of that was drowned out by the sound of Tara's braining boiling into overdrive. Alicia had called Denise. Her ex-girlfriend had called her current girlfriend to let her know Enid was theirs for the time being. Her girlfriend who didn't even know Enid was a possibility. Her girlfriend who hadn't texted or called in the hours following the phone call. Oh, god.

"Tara? Are you still there?"

She could scarcely hear over the pounding of her heart in her ears. "Yeah, but I have to go. I'm sorry. I'll call you tomorrow, and we'll get this sorted." She hung up and numbly stumbled toward her car. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! "Fuck." She needed to call Denise. She needed to see Denise right now and explain the situation. She had to go to her place and talk to her right now.

Unfortunately that was unproductive venture as Denise wasn't home, and Tara had yet to get a key to her apartment to wait her out. She tried calling her, but she didn't pick up. She waited outside her apartment for an hour, but she had a feeling Denise wasn't going to come. She decided to try her apartment. No better place to confront Tara than at Tara's apartment, right?

But no such luck. She wasn't there either. There wasn't a note, a message, a sign beyond Alicia telling her she'd told Denise that told her Denise knew. Well, that and the fact that Denise hadn't picked up the phone. Or replied to her messages. How pissed was she to altogether ignore Tara for nearly four hours? Counting the two after the call Alicia had made, of course.

Just then the front door slammed close, Tara would have jumped if she didn't know it was Denise, as she was the only person with a key, and the door had been locked the moment Tara entered. She knew what this was about, what Noah and Lilly had warned her about, and she knew this was going to be the worst fight she'd ever had with Denise. And she was the only one to blame.

"I'm guessing this is about the call you received from the social worker?" Tara was wincing before she even got the response.

"Yeah, and I'd like to know when in hell we moved in together and agreed to adopt and raise the victims' of your current case's daughter." She was trying not to yell, but she was furious. Had Tara come to her and said she was adopting Enid, she might have taken this better. However she didn't. Her girlfriend of two months didn't so much as whisper that she was considering adopting a fourteen-year-old girl who was one day from being thrown into the system. She had not even an inkling of Tara's plan until Alicia called her up.

"We closed the case," Tara pointlessly argued.

"That isn't the issue, and you know it, Tara!" She squeezed her hands into fists. "Why the hell didn't you tell me about this? I had to talk to a complete stranger who told me I was about to become a parent! A stranger, who I might add, used to be your ex-girlfriend! Who knew before I did!"

"She's working my case! It's not like I planned it this way!" Tara cried. "A—and you're not becoming a parent. I just...lied, and I'll straighten it out. It was an accident."

"You can't straight this out. This is the adoption of a child, Tara. You can't just say one thing and then turn around..." She trailed off and closed her eyes, trying to take a calming breathe. "Look, I understand that you feel a connection to this girl, but you went too far."

"How? I want her to be with someone she feels safe with! After the trauma she just went through, I don't think that's too much to ask! I can provide that safety! I want to."

"You cannot make this kind of decision without consulting with me." She slapped her hands down against her hips. "You are in a relationship and this decision affects both of us, not just you. Why didn't you tell me? We see each other every day. You had multiple opportunities to tell me about this, and you didn't. How are we supposed to have any future if you can't tell me you're adopting a child? If you drag me into something like this without my consent?"

"I didn't know how to tell you, and I ran out of time! I procrastinated and procrastinated until it was too late to do anything but have this fight. When Alicia came to look at this place, to question me, I told her what I thought would ensure me getting Enid. I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

"Are you? Honestly, Tara, are you sorry?" She searched her eyes. "God, don't you know that your entire life will change because of this decision? Including you and me?"

Tara threw her arms out. "So I didn't think this through, okay? The adoption, yes. How it would influence my life and my relationships, not entirely. Not as thoroughly as I assured Noah and Lilly that I had. I'm trying to adopt a little girl who I feel close to to keep her out of harm's way, out of a stranger's grasp, and I'll admit it was impulsive, but I don't regret it. I can give her a life where she'll be safe and comfortable. I know there are a million things I should have done before signing on to this, but oh well."

"Oh well?" Denise crossed her arms and walked over to her girlfriend. "You can't "oh well" this kind of situation. You can't brush it off or pretend it'll work out in the end. This a lifelong comment."

"I do know that. I'm preparing for this. I've spoken to Lilly and Rosita and Noa—"

"Everyone but me basically," Denise interrupted with a defeated sigh. "Why didn't you talk to me first? When this came to you as a possible reality, why didn't you call me? Roll over in bed and talk to me?"

"How could I tell you I'm adopting a child, Denise? We've barely been together for three months, and I didn't want to send you running for the hills!"

"Having your ex-girlfriend woman call me in the middle of my day to tell me about the "child" I'm adopting wasn't the way to break the news to me."

"I didn't know she'd call you. I told her to call me."

"Yeah, and while you were working the case, she called me because you couldn't pick up the phone." Denise stepped closer. "And about that calling only you bit—were you going to tell me, or was I going to come home and find little Enid here and you'd let her introduce herself as Enid Chambler?"

"She'll keep her own last name."

"That isn't the point!" Denise snapped. "And did you even ask her what she wanted? Does she want to live with you for the next four or five years? Does she want to be a cop's kid?"

"Of course I talked to her about it! It's her life too, and I wouldn't leave her out of such a major decision. It's not just me it's affecting. This is her entire life, and I couldn't just decide what to do with someone else's life..." She swallowed her words and realized what she'd just said.

Denise slowly nodded. "Do you see why I'm so pissed off now? Where was that concern for me when you decided to start trying to adopt this child?"

"I was going to tell you tonight," Tara confessed. "Enid been at the girls' home most of the week, but I had to be here for her, and we had the case. But I had plans. That's why I asked you over here five hours ago for dinner. I was going to order your favorite and just break the news."

She nodded. "I see."

"Denise, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I always meant to, but I was worried I'd lose you. I realize now I still could, especially having kept this secret, and all I can say is I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the adoption, that I lied and roped you into this. I'm sorry." She closed the space between them. "You mean so much to me, and I didn't want to ruin that. I didn't want to...ruin us. I got caught up in how Enid was taking this and how I was coping with this paramount decision...that I completely disregarded you and your feelings on the subject."

"Yes, you did, Tara."

"I'm so sorry."

A beat, apprehension and silence spilled into the room like a cold breeze through a window, and Tara couldn't keep the cold hands of dread from running along her spine. This decision didn't cost her everything, but her execution of it may have, and she knew it by the look in Denise's eyes.

"You have such a big heart." Denise smiled, though it held no trace of happiness, only sorrow. "And I'm glad this little girl will have a home with someone she likes and who will take care of her. You'll make a good mother to her. I have no doubt, though she'll probably spend more time raising you anyway. Clearly, you have lot to learn too."

Tara's eyes burned. "Please don't say it like you're saying goodbye."

"I don't know that I even want children, Tara. I thought we would put that conversation off for another two or three years, not two months in." She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Nothing between us has to change."

"You didn't tell me about this "paramount decision", and you involved me without my permission. You didn't consider my feelings at all. These are your words, Tara. Your words. I asked you so many times tonight why you didn't tell me, and all I got was you were afraid to lose me. What other outcome did you predict? If this was the other way around, what would you do? Would you trust me? Would you stay with me?" She shook her head. "I'm trying here, but God, Tara, what you did—"

"I screwed up, but—please, please don't end this. Please, talk to me."

"Why? You aren't sharing your life with me, and you don't evidently respect my opinion."

"Of course I do!" Tara exclaimed. "I have always respected you and your opinion, Denise!"

"Not when it really mattered."

"Please, wait." She reached out to touch her, but Denise moved away, her tears fogging over, and Tara's hand fell down to her side. "Please, just wait."

"I can't do this, Tara. I'm sorry, but I can't." She turned on her heel and hurried out the front door.

"Denise!"


	28. Sign, Sealed, Delivered

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

As the case was solved and their bodies were no longer needed, Mr. and Mrs. Morris were released. The city paid for a funeral, Tara went to support Enid, and Alicia was there. She kept an eye on Tara the entire time, watching as she wrapped a reassuring arm around Enid's shoulders, and she let the young girl cry into her coat.

Meghan and Lilly had come to pay their respects, a few neighbors came, and some of the kids and teachers from Enid's school were there. They brought flowers and cards for her, and they offered their condolences, and Enid thanked them for coming. Tara had flashbacks to her dad's funeral, and she kept her arm around Enid, knowing she needed to know without a shadow of a doubt she wasn't alone in this. If Tara had to break her own back, Enid wouldn't be alone in this.

"It's almost time to go." Alicia lingered by Tara. "Your partner isn't here?"

"She had to work. She couldn't get away." Tara didn't look at Alicia, her reply numb and planned and blatantly so.

She nodded. "I'll stop by later tonight then."

Tara opened her mouth to ask why when Enid said she'd had enough. "Okay." Tara guided her towards Alicia's car, and she said goodbye to her. "I'll see you soon, okay, kid?"

"Do you mean that?"

"Of course I do." She embraced her. "Just be okay until then, and call me if you need me. If anyone is suspicious or treats you badly, call me. I'll come and get you."

She nodded. "I will."

"You'll be home as soon as I can manage it." She released her. "Just...keep on keeping on until then."

"My parents used to say when money was tight, or if one of them had been laid off, that we'd just survive somehow. It always stuck with me. When times were tough, I repeat it to myself. I do it at that place. JSS."

"I'll bring you home soon. I promise."

She nodded again and saw Alicia nearing. "I don't want to go back, but I have to, don't I?"

"It's only temporary."

She snuffled. "Soon?"

"Very."

Alicia joined them, Enid slipped into the backseat and buckled in, and Tara walked away before Alicia could say anything further. She met Lilly and Meghan and they rode home together. Tara didn't want to be at her place. Not when the sheets still smelled like Denise, not when Enid wasn't down the hall, not when everywhere she looked she ached for some missing part of her life. She would figure out how to get both of them back. Somehow.

"Do you think she even misses me?" Tara pitifully asked her sister and niece.

"I'm sure she does." Lilly met her eyes. "I bet they both do, and I don't mean to be cruel, but you did bring this on yourself."

"Thanks, Lilly."

"So get off your mopey little ass and fix it."

"How? She won't return my calls, and I tried going to her office, but her secretary wouldn't let me through. She said Denise wasn't in, but I know she was. I had Noah call ahead, and she assured him Denise would be there at one-forty-five." She replayed that sentence. "I arrest people for doing this. What the hell is wrong with me?"

"You're in love with a woman you betrayed, and you don't know how to make it right." Meghan sat down on the couch with a bowl of caramel popcorn. "You need to prove to Denise that she comes first, that she matters to you, and you're not doing that. You've been here for the past two weeks, crying over her instead of fighting for her."

"If I fought for her, I wouldn't get very far. She's avoiding me! And Noah. And Michonne. And Sasha. Hell, they all take her side on this, but they're still trying to help me get her back." She sighed. "I need to do better, but I don't know how. I need to see her face-to-face. If I could, I know I could fix this. She just won't ever give me the chance."

"She might come around. You never know."

"I broke her trust, Meg. That isn't to forget or forgive." She stood up. "I'm going to try calling her again, at least to let her know how Enid is. I know she cares about that little girl, same as I do, so...there's something we still have in common."

"Stop beating yourself up over this," Lilly suggested, "and do something. Why don't you go home and eat and take a shower and get some sleep? It'll come to you."

"Before or after I lose Enid?" Tara griped. "Or while Denise wants nothing to do with me?"

"Go. Home."

"I'm gonna go to Noah's and play with Nate. He always cheers me up." She climbed over their feet and headed out. "Goodbye. I'll call you tomorrow, and I won't be so glum."

"Goodbye, sweetie." Lilly smiled at her. "I'm sure it'll work out."

"Sure, me too."

"Good night, Aunt Tara." Meghan hopped up to hug her tightly. "See you later."

She wondered out of the apartment and to her car. She drove to Noah and Beth's, knowing they would both be home at this time. They hadn't been called in yet, so they had some time before they had to get to work. She needed some time with the little munchkin. It might just help her cheer up enough to give her the energy and momentum to fight for Denise again. She was currently too demoralized to do anything but whine, and she hated that, so she needed to absorb some of the endless energy Nate had.

"Tara." Beth greeted her with a hug. "I'm so sorry we couldn't make it to the funeral."

"It's all right. Enid was overwhelmed anyway, so the less people there was better." She stepped inside the house. "What held you guys up?"

"Nate's sick."

"Seriously?" What the actual hell, Universe? She just wanted to play with him, and now he's down in the dumps with illness?! Ugh.

"Yeah, he was warm last night, and this morning he just threw up everywhere." She led Tara through the house to her and Noah's bedroom. "I gave him a bath, but Noah had to clean up the vomit. I can't even look into his room right now, even though it's clean. I keep seeing it."

"What's wrong with him? A strep?"

"That's what his doctor said." She rubbed her arm. "It's not contagious, and his fever's down, but he's still not feeling all that great."

"Poor kid."

Beth opened the door to her and Noah's bedroom, revealing Nate all cuddled up with his stuffed animals and his dad, watching his favorite movie. He perked up some at the sight of Tara, but Noah made him stay in bed. Noah moved so Tara could take his place, and she hugged him gently, not wanting to squeeze the little vomiter.

"Hey, kiddo." She smiled at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Yucky." He made a face. "I threw up on Hubert."

"Poor Huey." Tara looked over the freshly washed multicolored monkey. "I think he'll forgive you. It might take time, but he'll get there."

"Mommy said so too." He snuggled the money to his chest. "I didn't mean to."

"I'm sure he knows." She moved closer to him. "So, how's the movie?"

Noah and Beth let them be to get Nate's lunch and medicine, Tara conversed with Nate a little more before the movie got interesting, and Beth and Noah joined them with dry toast and soup and meds. Nate wasn't thrilled with it, but he took his medicine. He liked the soup. It was shapes, and it brought a smile to his pale face.

After the meal and medication, Nate was out like a light. Beth tucked him in and left the door cracked so light would spill into the room, and they all settled in the living room. Beth curled up on the couch with Noah, looking thoroughly exhausted, and Tara smile at how Noah's hand found hers. He laced his fingers through hers and held it to his heart, giving a smile meant for only her. It made her miss the smiles Denise used to give her.

"I need some advice," Tara told the couple.

"If it's about what happened between you and Denise, I'm afraid we have little to offer." Beth smiled sympathetically. "We love you, but we're on her side with this. You should have told her, and you shouldn't have dragged her into it."

"I know. I know all of that, but it's too late. It happened, and we might be over, and I need to find a way to make it so we're not over. I don't want her to let me off the hook simply because I love her. I want to talk it through with her. I want to make it up to her. I want to apologize, but she won't let me even try. How do I get her to let me try? How do I earn the right try? You two have been together for a while now, so help me please. As your friend and not-godmother of your child, help me."

"We can't make Denise want to try with you." Noah lowered their hands. "I tried calling her and visiting her, but she wouldn't talk to me. I don't think she was in the office when I went by. Her secretary wasn't sure she was in the office either."

"She wouldn't miss work over me."

"I think you underestimate how much you meant to her." Beth met her eyes. "You just said you love her. Do you realize that?"

"What?" Tara's brows knitted together. "I said..."

"Yeah, you said you love her, that you didn't want her to let you off the hook just 'cause you love her." Beth smiled. "You didn't know? You just said it?"

"I was semi-ranting." She swallowed and buried her face in her hands. "God, I just fucked this up, didn't I?"

"If she loves you too, then there's a chance."

"I don't think she does. She might have before the whole mess with Alicia, but...not anymore." She ran a hand through her hair. "I want to make this right, but I just don't know how. I can't apologize anymore than I already did when we fought, so I need to do something. I need to prove to her that she can trust me, and that I value her. How..."

Beth and Noah exchanged a look when Tara trailed off, Beth opened her mouth to ask if she had the answer to that question when Tara flew off the couch, and she said she was sorry to leave in the middle of a conversation like this. She then flitted out of their out before they could even blink.

"Well, that was...strange."

Beth was still smiling. "She found an answer. That's not strange. I just hope it helps."

"So do I. I hate seeing Tara like this, and she and Denise were good together. They were happy. I hope they can get back to that."

"We all do. That's why Rosita's over at Denise's right now."

He heaved a sigh. "Let's leave it up to them. We need to get you something to eat."

"I'm fine."

"I know, but you need to eat something." He smiled softly at her. "It's not just you, after all."

"Would you stop? We don't know for sure, and even if I am, it's too early to be saying things like that. Anything could happen."

"Fine, but you're still eating."

"Fine." She leaned over and kissed him. "I love you."

"Where's this coming from?"

"Just seein' Denise and Tara like they are. I'm glad to have you and Nate. And maybe another baby." She beamed. "I'm happy, and I wanted to let you know that I love you."

"I love you too." He returned her smile. "And just so you know I'm hoping for a girl."

"I know you are." She stood up and pulled him up, guiding him to the kitchen. "So am I."

He wrapped his arms around her and minded his feet so she didn't trip over them, and she giggled when he kissed her neck. She did tell him to stop then, though he didn't listen, and she rolled her eyes at him. She wouldn't let him know how blessed she felt to be possibly pregnant, to be given a chance to continue their life together as man and wife. She wouldn't let him know how the beginning of this year nearly put her through a nervous breakdown, but she would let him and Nate and the second child they would eventually have know how much she loved them. They were her entire life, and she was grateful. She hoped and prayed, despite being on Denise's side, that Tara had the chance to experience this part of life.

– – –

"So, how long has this case been active?" Denise reviewed the files Rosita had brought over with her in the living room of her apartment. She adjusted her glasses to peer more clearly at the photo of the victim, and she recognized him somewhat. She couldn't think of where, but it would come to her when she wasn't expecting it. As it always did.

"A couple days. Michonne and Sasha are lead on it, and I've given...Noah and Tara the day off." Technically Noah had called to inform them Nate was sick, and he wouldn't be in until Nate's fever was down, if at all.

"Well, I don't know why you're here. I'm a therapist, but I'm not trained to study this type of mind. You need a profiler, which I am not."

"Just give me your best estimation."

"Or you can jump to the part where you're using this case to try and get to me, because you want to talk about me and Tara," Denise replied. "This case isn't active, Rosita. You don't need a profile of this killer."

"Fine. Fine, it's a cold case, but Sasha has been working it for years now." She crossed her arms. "We're done with the lies. Okay? So talk to me. Stop ignoring me and everyone who cares about you."

"I'm not ignoring anybody. I'm constantly preoccupied by other things, Rosita. I have a life and a job and a moronic brother who has a subconscious death wish. He's _that_ reckless." She stood up. "I don't have time to listen you all tell me to rethink my decision, to talk to Tara."

"I'm not here to tell you to rethink anything. I'm with you on this. Tara should have consulted you before bringing you into Enid's adoption. I entirely agree with you on that front."

"Then why are you here, using this case to force me to let you in?"

" _Because I had to use a case to force you to let anyone in_." She neared her. "You can't shut the world out, Denise."

"I'm not."

"You've ignored every call I've made, that Michonne and Sasha and Noah have made, and your secretary doesn't even know when you were in last or when you'll be in next! You have clients who need you, and Dennis who is worried about you. He called me because you wouldn't open the door!"

"I wasn't here. I haven't been home in a week." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I drove over to Ohio and stayed with my aunt for a time. I forgot my phone, and I told my secretary to forward my calls. She wasn't paying attention, I guess."

"You went back home?"

"I needed some time to myself. Was that too much to ask?"

"No, of course not. After what happened, I get needing time. Hell, I took off home when I found out I was pregnant. I stayed for two weeks, and my mom helped me through the anxiety and then the excitement. I didn't even tell Spencer until I was two months, I think. I was so worked up I forgot I hadn't told him."

"That's awful."

"Yeah, but he forgave me. He was just thrilled to be a father."

"How is Alejándro? I haven't seen him lately."

"He's with my mother at the dentist. He's not thrilled, but his teeth need cleaning. I promised to make his favorite meal tonight, so he should behave for her. If not, she'll turn into the monster that keeps me in line and fearful to this day."

"You know, I really do care about you, Rosita, but you are a hypocrite."

Rosita blinked. "Where the hell did that come from? We went from talking about my son's teeth to hypocrite?"

"Yes. You're only over here telling me about Alejándro, because you want me to talk to Tara. You want us to work out our relationship and say all the things that need to be said, but you won't tell Spencer. You're in love with him, but you won't tell him, even though you know he loves you too."

"We're not compatible. We've tried to make it work, but it doesn't."

"So you're just going to what? Screwing him until you're both old and gray?"

"No. I wouldn't do that to him. He deserves more than that. Once Alejándro's older...I'll find a place for us and take care of him primarily. Spencer will have a chance to live his own life while still seeing his son on a daily basis. We just won't be living together."

"It won't work. You'll still be in his life, and he'll still love you."

"And you'll still love Tara," Rosita snapped. "You'll love her until you hate yourself for not trying. She's trying. She's been trying since you walked out, and I know you had to put distance between you and her. I get that, but...you haven't been as happy as you have been with Tara in so long. You can't just let that go because you're scared. Because you won't try."

"Who said I love her?"

"You didn't need to say it. I saw it that day at the hospital, after those apartments went down and Tara nearly died. You looked at her, and I knew it." She was almost shouting, but she didn't care. "I saw it and recognized it, because it's how I look at Spencer. You're right that I do love him. I've loved him since before Alejándro was born, but I'm scared to take that chance again. I have a child in the middle of our relationship, and I don't want him to get his hopes up. I don't want to him get hurt if it doesn't work out. Or God forbid I get pregnant again, and have another child in the middle of us and our failing relationship."

"And Tara put a child in the middle of our relationship."

"And you still love her," Rosita retorted. "Like I still love him. I'll admit that I'm scared, that I don't want to hurt my son with false hope, but how about you? Will you admit that you're scared?"

"Of what?"

"Commitment! Of having Tara by your side for the rest of your life, of raising a child together, of loving her after only a few months. This could be it, and you're fucking paralyzed. I don't blame you. It is frightening, but it is more agonizing to do what Spencer and I do. We actually have sex, and it's great, but sometimes I want a different kind of intimacy with him that I can't have without raising the question of why we aren't together." She blinked back the tears in her eyes. "Sometimes I just want to hold him or kiss him, but I can't. I can't just reach over and take his hand without alarms going off in both of us, and you can't imagine how much that hurts. It _physically_ hurts, Denise."

"Then try!"

"Why don't you try?" Rosita threw back. "Huh? Who's the hypocrite now?"

"It's not like you and Spencer. He values you. Hell, he'd worship you if you'd let him." She walked away and shook her head. "When Tara told me she'd asked Enid how she felt and _only_ Enid, I felt...like the last thing on her mind. I felt invisible and not needed or cared for. She asked you and Michonne and Noah for your opinions but not mine. Not once. The other person this decision directly affects was the last one in her mind."

"She was thinking about you. She was worried she'd lose you. She was worried it wouldn't work out with Enid. She had so much stress on her from the case and your relationship and the trail and the adoption. I'm not saying that's okay, because it's not. But you have to cut her some slack. God, Denise, she really cares about you. More than I've seen her care about anybody, and she's desperate to make this up to you."

She was silent.

"You're all she's talked about for the last two weeks. She's made numerous trips to your office to try and talk to you. She's gone to your apartment and tried texting you and calling you. She is reaching out to make this up to you, and I know you're scared to accept her, because it might be her and Enid now, but please just consider one thing. For me, please."

"What thing?"

"Would you erase it all because of this one mistake? Would you go back in time to that first kiss and not initiate it?" She searched those grey eyes, pleading with her, and she wasn't sure what Denise would say. "Well, would you?"

"I don't know." She sat down on the couch. "I don't know, okay?"

Rosita sat beside her and set a hand on her back. "Then think a little harder on it. I'll make you some tea." She rubbed her back and stood up to prepare the tea.

Denise removed her glasses and set them on the coffee table so her tears wouldn't get on the lenses and stain them. She couldn't deal with this right now. She knew she had to. She knew there was a point in her avoidance of the matter where it was all over by default, and the thought of it all ending made her stomach shift and twist. She couldn't stop the tears that wanted to fall at the thought of that happening. It had been a rough start with the therapy sessions, but she had grown fond of Tara. Then she grew attracted to her, and like Rosita had said, she had fallen in love with her. Completely, stupidly, blindly in love with her, but the logical part of her brian beat her heart.

That was until Rosita came into the ring to tag out her heart and take on her brain.

––

Tara removed her hoodie, tossing it and her keys into the armchair, and she followed shortly after with a grunt. She pushed the unruly hairs from her face and decided to never talk to Dennis about Denise again. He was the typical protective older sibling, only he did try and help her. Though he was the opposite of Denise, as all of his suggestions would only earn her a restraining order. That wasn't a good stain for anybody, especially not a homicide detective like her. She was working on becoming a detective second grade, and she didn't need that on record.

She sagged in the armchair then pushed herself up and dragged her hands down her face, her eyes landing on the pictures Meghan had taken as an experiment for her therapy. Healing through photography, Eric said. Lilly had taken the day off, and they all went to the Central Park. It was a great day, warm and sunny, and Meghan snapped a lot of good photos, especially of her and Denise when they weren't paying attention. The one Meghan had taken that was Tara's absolute favorite was when they were trying to pose, but Lilly tripped, and they all went down like dominoes. They all busted out laughing, and Denise sat up beside her and brushed a leaf or something out of her hair, and Meghan had snapped a photo of it. It was a genuine moment of affectionate between them, and Tara loved it. It was raw and real, and it was one of those moments where one could see they were in love. At least at one point.

There was a knock on her door, she hoped it was Denise, but that was highly unlikely. She shuffled over to the door and found Enid and Alicia on the other side. She was a taken aback, staring at the pair, and Enid smiled and tackled her in hug, literally knocking her out of her daze—and back into her apartment, if they were being honest. The kid must have missed her, because that was one hell of a jolt.

Alicia smiled at the sight. "I'm sorry to come so late, but paperwork is a bitch."

"Paperwork?" Tara echoed.

"For temporary custody. I brought it with me to keep you from having to drive from the office to the girls' home, and I had business down here anyway." She nodded to the couch. "May I?"

"Yeah, sure. Come inside." Tara released the young girl. "Are you guys hungry? Or thirsty?"

Enid nodded and removed her backpack, curling up in the armchair Tara had sagged into moments ago. "Both."

"I could eat, but I don't want to put you out." Alicia pulled out the paperwork for Tara's signature.

"It'll be a wait, but I can order." She picked up her phone. "It'll take a sec. I'll get some drinks."

Tara ordered them dinner, knowing what Enid liked and what Alicia used to like, and she poured pop and water into glasses. She set the cups down and sat beside Alicia to get this all worked out. Her heart hadn't stopped racing since Alicia had come to the door, and it wasn't about to stop now. Her mind was reeling, but her hands weren't shaking. They were steady, ready to sign and be a temporary guardian to Enid. They were ready to prove she could be a _permanent_ guardian.

"I'll need Denise's signature too, but I understand how demanding her job is, so I'll just disregard it for now." She traced a nail over where Tara needed to sign. "I'll try and call her in next week. I'm too swamped to do it right now."

Tara's mouth dried out as she curved the last A in her name. "Alicia, there's something I need to tell you."

"Don't look so pale." She set a hand on Tara's knee. "You'll do great. You've already done great. I know how scary it is to have this become a reality, but you and Denise will do just fine. She called a few hours ago to settle the matter, and she asked to have Enid as soon as possible. That's how I know she's with a high-risk patient right now, and I don't want to disturb her."

"Denise...called? Tonight?"

She nodded.

Enid studied Tara and saw how surprised she looked. Enid knew the whole living together bit was a lie, but Denise had been over a lot when Enid stayed, so maybe they were going to live together. She didn't know for sure, but she did know Tara hadn't expected Denise to do this. To have called Alicia herself and beat off any questions. Why hadn't she expected that? What had happened since Enid was sent to the girls' home?

Tara finished with the paperwork, the food arrived, and Alicia hung around to eat hers. Enid and Tara had taken the couch, and Enid was telling Tara all about the girls' home. Alicia could see—and had heard from the girl many times—how much she hated the girls' home and how comfortable she was here. Enid hardly spoke two words at the home, but she was speaking novels to Tara. She was smiling and laughing and being a kid. Alicia was happy to be there, to see how smart a match this was, and she felt a slight twinge of envy. She and Tara had been together a while, and she always thought she'd be the one to adopt kids with her, not Denise. Life wasn't always what one thought it would be, and her time with Tara had passed. She could only hope she and Denise made it.

"Go wash up." Tara dumped the empty containers in the trash. "I was able to get some of your old clothes, so they're in your room."

She smiled. "My room?"

Tara smiled back. "Yeah, _your_ room, which you better keep clean, young lady."

She laughed and hugged her again. "I will."

Tara stroked her hair and squeezed her. "Go on. I need to see Alicia out."

Enid let go and headed to the bathroom.

"You're a natural with her." Alicia was by the door, watching them in the hall. "It's sweet."

"I'm just glad I have a chance with her." She kept the smile and directed it at Alicia. "Thank you for coming over tonight. I really needed...some good news."

"You're welcome." She opened the door. "And about that coffee...you don't have to."

"I'd like to. Maybe we can try somewhere new. I know Enid would like to come."

"Enid?" Alicia smiled. "I'm sure she will. I'll call later to set up a date."

"I look forward to it." She grasped the door as Alicia slipped out. "Be safe out there, all right?"

"I will be. Good night."

"Night."

Enid hurried over to wave goodbye with her toothbrush still in her mouth, Tara laughed, and Alicia smirked, waving back. The door closed, Tara shook her head at the young girl, and Enid continued to scrub her teeth on the trip back to the bathroom. Tara's chest was full and fervent with a myriad of emotions, and she knew who most of them were directed toward. She had to make a call.

She stepped into her bedroom as the phone rang, and she prayed she'd pick up. She sat on the bed as the ringing went on and on, and her heart began to sink when she was one ring away from voice mail. Also how sad was it she knew how many rings it was until she hit the voice mail?

There was a click and a sigh, and Tara's heart leaped.

"Denise?"

A brief pause. "Yes."

A smile crossed her lips. "Hey."

"Hey." There was a hint of a laugh in that one word, and Tara knew that there was still a chance to try and make it right. "Why are you calling so late?"

"I need to talk to you. I know I have no right to ask, but please, Denise, I really need to talk to you."

Another pause, only this one was pregnant, and Tara's heart wasn't sure it could survive. Suddenly a pen clicked, and Tara's heart began to tentatively calm.

"I have an hour tomorrow around two. We could meet for coffee then."

"That'd be great. We can meet at that cafe again. We haven't been back in a while."

"I am craving one of their coffees."

"So, it's a date then?" She winced at that. "I mean—not a date. Just... I mean, we're meeting there, and it's set in stone. It's not—It doesn't mean—"

"Yes," Denise interrupted her babbling. "It's a date."


	29. Gravity

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

Tara met Denise at the cafe the next afternoon, Enid had to come along with her as she had no babysitter, and Meghan had school. Tara had plans to transfer Enid to the same school as Meghan, so Enid would have a fresh-ish start, but that wasn't until tomorrow. She'd spoken to the principal that morning, but she had to wait until she was sure the pressure of a new school and being around all those people wouldn't put Enid through a breakdown. She still had to set up an appointment with Eric for Enid. He'd done so well with Meghan, and she knew he'd be able to help Enid. She could hide it, but Tara had been there during her nightmares. She'd sat with her all last night, Enid woke up in tears, and she helped her through the panic attack. She hadn't slept at all, but Enid had gotten an hour or two, so it was worth it.

"Just order whatever you want," Tara instructed. "Stay by the couch where I can keep an eye on you."

"I will." She hugged the book she'd brought along to her chest. "Good luck."

"Thanks." She smiled and nudged her with her arm. "Try the biscotti."

"Okay."

Tara approached the counter and pointed Enid out to Jacqui. "She's with me, so just add whatever she orders to my tab."

"All right." She offered the young girl a bright smile. "What can I get for you two?"

Tara ordered her usual when she was dead-ass tired, Enid went for a caramel latte with biscotti, and Tara smirked at her choice. They walked toward the couch near the back, and Denise entered the cafe. Tara's heart skipped a beat at the sight of her, Enid tried to make herself scarce, but Denise was already nearing them. She couldn't just rudely walk away, so she remained beside Tara with her drink, book and biscotti.

"Hello." Denise smiled at both of them, though her eyes lingered on Enid, as if she hadn't expected to see her. Truth be told she hadn't, but of course she was here. They would be traveling together now. She'd made sure of it. "You already ordered?"

"Oh, sorry, yeah. I didn't sleep well last night, and I had to let Jacqui know to add Enid's stuff to my tab."

"It's okay. Let's just find a table."

"Stay within range, okay?" Tara told the young girl again.

"Okay."

Denise watched as Tara observed Enid finding her way to the couch and sitting down, and Denise nearly smiled at how Tara had embraced the mother role. It was a natural skin, and Denise could tell their relationship would only improve as time went on. There would be rough patches, as they were always were between mother and child, but they would get through them. Tara would have Enid in her life for a long, long time. The question was: would Denise have Tara and Enid in her life for a long, long time?

Denise ordered black tea and sat across from Tara. "You look awful."

"I told you I didn't sleep last night." She cleared her throat. "Enid had a nightmare, so I stayed up to be there for her. She...cried, had another full blown panic attack, and she finally fell asleep at eleven in the morning, shaking in my arms."

Denise frowned. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm used to it. I had to do the same for Lilly after she got back, though that was mostly withdrawal symptoms, and for Meghan too." She pressed her lips together. "I had a few of my own after the shooting."

"No one was there to comfort you?" She saw the answer in those chocolate eyes and envisioned Tara curled up in her bed, crying and shaking all alone in the dark. Her heart broke, and she had to blink to keep the tears away.

"It was months ago, and I'm okay." She drank from her cup.

"I wish...someone had been there for you."

She traced the handle to her mug. "It's in the past, and I'd rather talk about now, about the future, because it's been on my mind for the last two weeks." She met her eyes. "I'm so sorry. God, I am sorry. I know I can't make up for what I did, for how I made you feel, and I'm sorry. I doubt that's enough to fix everything, or even a little bit of it, but I am."

"You put her interest above your own and above mine," Denise stated. "You did the mom thing, and I understand that now. It made little sense to me until I spoke to Rosita last night."

"The captain?"

"She admitted to having feelings for Spencer, but she wouldn't risk Alejándro getting hurt if it didn't pan out. She didn't want to give him false hope. She wanted to let Spencer try and find someone else. She loves him, and he loves her, but she chose her son. She chose to basically suffer so her child wouldn't be scarred through the any downs a relationship with Spencer would bring." She wrapped her hands around her mug of tea. "That's what you did in your own way. You didn't want Enid to suffer through unknowing parents, to endure her nightmares alone, to have nobody to turn to. You put her needs and her well being above yours, and I respect that."

"You do?"

"I saw how you were with Enid, and how she was with you, and I shouldn't be so stunned that you decided to do this."

"I should have spoken to you first." She lowered her eyes. "It's just... This was a major decision for me, and it's something I always wanted. I only thought of myself and of Enid. I didn't factor you in...because I wasn't sure how long we'd last, to be honest. With Enid, that was a forever choice. Regardless of how it was to play out, I would have kept tabs on Enid. She would have always been in my thoughts, and I would have worked myself to the bone to adopt her someday. I saw it as my struggle and mine alone. I asked Lilly, because she's a single mother and my sister. I've always turned to her, and I turned to Noah, because he and Beth weren't expecting to have Nate. It was just one day out of the blue when Beth discovered she was pregnant.

"As for Rosita and Michonne and Sasha... They've always been in my life. We've stood by each other through so much, and we've given each other counsel through any hard times and major decisions. They're like family to me. I was going down the list of people I could talk to about this, but when it came to you...I wasn't sure."

"You weren't sure? Sure of what?"

"How you'd react. I knew all of my friends and family's reaction, but not yours. I've only known you a short while when compared to the decades I've known them, and I couldn't work out your reaction. It terrified me, and it still does."

"So you simply disregarded me entirely."

"No, I did have plans on telling you the night you found out. I was just putting it off, and I did it for so long that it came back to bite me in the ass. I should have been straight with you when I decided to adopt Enid. I don't have a good enough reason for why I didn't, and I know...you deserved better than that." She dragged a hand through her hair, trying to keep the tears out of her eyes. "You deserve a better explanation, a better girlfriend, and I'm sorry I couldn't provide either."

Denise studied her and lowered her eyes. "You are a good girlfriend, Tara. You're one of the best girlfriends I've ever had. Don't ever question that."

"A good girlfriend would have talked to you before pushing to adopt a child."

"Nobody's perfect."

She frowned at her. "What?"

"No one's perfect, and we all make mistakes." She inhaled. "I realized that too. I'm not upset about what happened anymore. I talked it through with my aunt and with Rosita. I wouldn't want to wish what we had away."

Tara slowly smiled. "You wouldn't?"

"Not for a second." She reached over to touch her hand, and a tear escaped Tara's eye. "I love you, Tara. I really do."

"I love you too." She scooted closer to the edge of her seat to be closer to her.

Denise smiled and laced her fingers through Tara's. "You do?"

"Duh." She rolled her eyes to try and lighten the air, but more tears fell free, and Denise chuckled. Tara wiped at her eyes, and Denise reached over to brush off another falling tree. Tara caught her hand and held it tightly, but there was a dark feeling creeping between them. Like a cracked window on a cold winter night, and the wind was only picking up, and suddenly Denise was pulling her hands away.

"What is it?" Tara snuffled. "What's wrong?"

Her gaze moved to the brunette on the couch, nibbling on biscotti while reading a book, and she dropped her hands to her lap. "I love you, Tara Chambler. I really do, but I am not ready to be a parent. Being with you means I'm partly a parent to Enid, and I'm not ready for that. If I hurt you, I hurt her, and I can't do either and be okay with myself."

"Wa—"

"I'm not sure I even want to have a child in my life. Enid is always going to be in your life, you said so yourself. I'm not ready for that, and I don't know that I even want that."

Tara shook her head. "You're wrong."

"How am I wrong?"

"About not being ready to be a parent—you're dead wrong. God, Denise, you're already a mother to Dennis. That man would be lost without you, and you go above and beyond for him. More than a twin or sibling should. You mother him. Why do you think he always comes to you with problems?"

"His friends have the maturity levels of frat boys, and they're stupid. Not to be mean or judgmental, but they actually are quite dumb. I've talked to some of them, and they graduated high school. I don't know how, but it's scary."

"You practically raised your brother, Denise. Sure, he has his moment of stupidity, and he has questionable ways of wooing women, but he's a good guy. That's because of you. You can say you won't be a good parent, or you're not ready, but you've been a mom to Dennis all your lives. Hell, probably in the womb. You've gained the skills to be a good mom through taking care of Dennis all these years." She heaved a sigh. "So if you don't want to be with me, don't lie to my face with such a weak excuse."

"I wasn't lying. I just...didn't see how I take care of my brother as motherly. I'm pretty hard on him."

"And all moms are nice?"

She shook her head. "I don't know, Tara."

"Just try. Why don't you come and have dinner with us tonight? We can prepare it together, and you can have a taste of what...it's like."

"I don't know."

"If you love me like you said you did...then please try. Enid needs someone like you in her life, and I want you in mine, so please just try for one night. It's the last thing I'll ask you do it. If you can't...or don't like it...I guess that'll be it for...us."

Denise felt like her heart had been ripped out at that sentence, and she nodded. "I'll come by around seven."

"Seven it is then."

They parted with no contact, Enid did shake hands with Denise, and Denise seemed a little more comfortable around her. Tara hoped tonight went well as she and Enid headed to pick up food for tonight's dinner, and Enid suggested they make fish. Tara didn't know why she'd suggest that, but it was the first time the kid had mentioned like any type of food that didn't come out of a takeout container, so fish it was.

Back at home they prepared the table and the apartment for company, Enid pulled her hair back out of her face, and Tara helped her set the table after they had a brief pillow fight. Tara was the first one to throw a pillow—though by accident, she was aiming for the chair—and she learned Enid had quite the arm. She might have to get the girl into sports to avoid hearing the words: concussion by pillow. That was the last thing she wanted to hear coming out of Dr. S's mouth.

"Here." Enid handed her the spices for the meal. "I've never had asparagus. Is it good?"

"Yeah, it's really good. You'll like it."

She nodded. "Tonight's a big night."

"Yep. It'll either make us come together or break us up entirely. I honestly have no clue which way it's leaning right now." She sighed. "Love sucks, kid, but it's honestly one of the best parts of life."

"My parents used to say that. Well, not sucks, but you know what I mean."

She smiled. "You're part of the reason why love doesn't suck."

"What do you mean?"

"To your parents, even now, no matter how rough it got between them, they had you. You were the product of their love, and that couldn't suck." Tara saw the tears in her eyes, and she embraced her. "So you need to stop trying to be okay. Putting on a strong face won't help you in the long run, sweetie. I know it's unbearable, but for you to live one day without this weight, you need to let it all out."

She shook her head.

"I'm here for you, and I'm not going anywhere. We'll get through this together. I promise."

– – –

Enid was lying on the couch with her head on the pillow in Tara's lap as Tara set up an appointment for her to meet with Eric, and Enid snuffled softly, her eyes tired from crying. She knew Denise would be over any minute now, but she didn't have the energy to move. She was so thoroughly exhausted from being able to openly cry for the first time in weeks that she wasn't sure she could handle dinner and dessert. She was tapped out.

The front door opened, Enid and Tara both looked to find Denise there with the key Tara had give her weeks ago, and they exchanged a few smiles. Enid excused herself to the bathroom to wash up, and Tara said they'd yet to start dinner. Enid's tears had burned into a meltdown, but it was okay. She needed to get it off her chest, and while she had many more emotions to cry or scream or silently glare out, she was all right for now.

"Perhaps I should go then. I don't want to upset her."

"She's calmed down now."

"Are you sure?"

"You can ask her yourself, if you'd like." She stuffed her hands into her pockets. "Unless you want out..."

"I just don't want to say the wrong thing and set her off. I know how sensitive she is."

"I'm fine." Enid entered the room. "For now, I'm okay."

Denise ran her eyes over her. "Are you okay with me being here?"

"Yeah." She offered the biggest smile could she manage. "I'm fine with you and with Tara."

Tara smiled. "So, who wants to help me make fish?"

"I'll warm up the oven," Enid replied.

"Then Denise can help me with the sides." Tara stepped towards the kitchen. "You can leave your jacket anywhere."

"I remember." Denise shrugged it off and set it on the hook, Tara rolled her eyes, and Denise fell into step with her. "So, what kind of fish are we having?"

They prepared their meal together, Enid was eager to learn and to keep her mind off the breakdown she'd just had, and Denise enjoyed showing Enid how to cook. Dennis had never been keen on learning anything, let alone how to make a decent meal, so it was invigorating and nice to have someone actually listen to her and ask questions. This was the best she'd felt in two long weeks, and she loved the smile Tara wore. It did funny things to her heart, but better funny things than the pangs of confusion and loneliness that occupied it not even a day ago.

Enid carried the rice to the table, Tara brought the fish, and Denise the asparagus. They filled their own drinks and seated themselves and dug in. The conversation was a little bumpy at first, but Tara and Denise both learned that Enid wanted to attend school to become a scientist. She'd wanted to do it since she was a little girl, and her parents always thought she was joking. She wasn't super smart, but she was smart enough to follow her dream. Tara was impressed, and Denise suggested a few schools. She even offered to look at campuses when Enid was ready.

"She's a freshmen," Tara argued.

"So? It's never too early in high school to set a path of where you want to be," Denise remarked. "If she has a college in mind, it'll only encourage her to try harder."

"Is that what you did?" Enid scooped up rice with her fork.

"No, the drive I had came from wanting to help people. I wanted to be a doctor, but it just wasn't for me. I didn't have the stomach for it, so I switched majors and become a therapist."

"Lucky for me," Tara softly flirted.

Enid rolled her eyes at Tara and almost laughed at how Denise blushed. God, they were worst than her parents. She stopped that thought right there and swallowed it down with a gulp of water, not wanting to ruin tonight for Tara. "Maybe over the summer I could look at campuses with you. I don't have any other plans."

"Yet. I could ship you off to camp," Tara mused.

"I've been to camp before."

"You have?"

"It wasn't very fun. It was kind of silly, and childish."

"Says the child," Denise teased.

"I was thirteen, and they were all about eight or nine." She flushed from embarrassment. "I was too old to be there."

"Fine, I'll send you and Meg off to an age-appropriate camp one of these summers. If Lilly will let me."

"I can't wait." Enid bit into a piece of asparagus.

"Do I detect sarcasm?" Tara narrowed her eyes.

"From me? Never. I have _never_ been sarcastic in my entire life." She smirked.

"You've been a terrible influence on this child," Denise flippantly chided Tara.

"Trust me, she was like this when I got her."

"God help me."

Enid giggled, Denise laughed slightly around a drink of water, and Tara smiled at her, reaching over to take her hand. She brushed her thumb over her knuckles, Denise returned her smile, and Enid rolled her eyes again, though it was a happy eye roll. Embarrassing as they were, they were good together, as she'd briefly seen, and she wanted them to be happy. She hoped she didn't steal any chance of that.

– – –

Enid was in bed by ten, thoroughly drained after last night's shit sleep, the meltdown and the food and conversation, and Tara closed the door, hoping she slept through the night, and she and Denise cleared the kitchen. Tara was nervous about what would come next, and Denise was silent through the cleaning. It did little to sooth Tara's heart and fears.

Once everything was clean and returned to its rightful place, they lingered in the kitchen, and Denise turned to Tara.

"She's a lovely girl."

"I think so." She tossed the dishtowel she'd been holding onto the counter. "I care about her a lot, and I love you, so...I'm willing to try anything to make it work. Tell me there's a chance that I can make this worth."

"It's not just you who has to make it work. I have to put effort into it too."

She swallowed. "Will you?"

"Let me think about it. I have a little time before Alicia comes for my signature, and I need to be around more often for any surprise visits from her. It'll look odd if I'm not here."

She nodded. "How much time do you need?"

"I'm not sure, but I'll have my answer before I sign anything." She stepped toward her. "I'll help you adopt her regardless. I can see how good you are for her mental stability, and I want her to be okay, so I'm with you on that. That's why Alicia came by last night, because I pushed for you. I'll keep pushing, so don't worry about that. As...for the us part...it's just going to take time for me to decide if I'm with you...on being a parent."

"Then take it. I'll be here when you come to a conclusion."

"It's no wonder I love you so much." She leaned over and kissed her. It was meant to be a goodbye kiss, an I'll see you later kiss, but it wasn't the brief kiss she'd envisioned. Maybe it was gap between the last time they'd kissed and now. Maybe it was because she loved her and missed and knew Tara felt the same. There were a million maybes, but they were drowned out by the intensity of their kiss, and they didn't matter.

Her hands found those soft raven locks, her fingers twisting around them, and she brought Tara closer and closer tenderly until their bodies were flush against each other. Her hands traveled down to her cheeks, to the soft, warm skin there, and she felt that she was smiling. She brushed her thumb against the arch of that smile, feeling how big and thrilled it was, and her own lips began to replicate it.

Tara slipped an arm around her, the other looped through the belt loop on her jeans to keep her close, and she parted her lips with her tongue. She had a craving for her, like a sweet tooth, only this wasn't enough. She wasn't going to push, despite everything in her body begging her too. She just wanted to kiss her and touch her while she still could. She had a lot of lost time to make up for, and there would be even more lost time when Denise left tonight, so she wasn't going to waste a second.

A soft moan escaped her lips, and she cupped Tara's cheeks, her lungs' cry for air steadily escalating, and she had to pull back. She kept her forehead against Tara's, not releasing her grip on her cheeks, not letting her move anywhere, and Tara kissed her once more. Her lips traveled down to her jaw, nibbling slightly, and Denise chuckled at how it felt, though as Tara moved further down toward her neck, her chuckles shriveled up in her throat. She was sure if Tara kissed her neck, she could feel her heart racing against her lips, and she hoped not. The things her heart raced for couldn't happen tonight. They couldn't, because she needed time. She needed time...

That thought dissolved when Tara's lips found that spot behind her ear, and Denise moaned hotly, forgetting that Enid's room was only two walls away and was only an hour asleep. Tara shushed her by kissing her lips briefly, pulling back to look at her. A silent conversation about waiting and about consent, and it was ended with another kiss.

Tara guided Denise through the apartment to her bedroom, shutting the door quietly, and in the dark, they found each other. It was different than the last time. It was much more intense. Each kiss, each stroke, each touch felt amplified, but they had to keep quiet. They weren't alone in the apartment, and somehow that added to the experience, and it was definitely the best sex of their relationship, because it was more than just that. Somewhere between the kisses and the touches and the whispered I love yous and the poorly restrained moans, it became more.

– – –

It was six in the morning when Tara woke up, Denise was asleep in bed beside her, and she smiled, leaning over to kiss her shoulder lovingly. It was enough to wake her, she inhaled sharply and moaned softly, opening her eyes. She looked confused then she rolled over and smiled at the raven-haired beauty beside her. She caressed her cheek and brought her down to kiss her lips once.

"Good morning." Tara laced her fingers through Denise's and kissed her fingertips.

"It is." She squinted at her. "Where are my glasses?"

"On the nightstand."

"Oh, thank God. I wasn't sure if you threw my shirt or my glasses."

"Sorry." She didn't look or sound very sorry, and the grin wasn't helping.

"Are you really?"

"No." She shook her head and kissed her. "Not even a little."

"Me either."

"Do you still need time? I know last night...wouldn't have given you any time for thinking."

"Thinking? Tara, I couldn't even stand up." She laughed. "Seriously, if someone had offered me six million dollars to walk across the room last night, I wouldn't have been able to do it."

"Then I succeeded." She kissed her again. "I love you."

"I love you too." She met her eyes. "I have to shower. I have a meeting at eight-thirty."

"Cancel it."

"I can't. It's with Alicia."

Tara swallowed. "Oh. She contacted you that soon?"

"No, I talked to her." She freed her fingers from Tara's. "I'll make breakfast once I'm out. I think Enid needs more protein in her life than what leftovers provide."

"Wait." Tara sat up. "What are you going to tell her?"

"The truth."

"Which is?"

She only kissed Tara and slipped out in her robe to shower, and Tara hugged the blankets tighter to her chest, the love-filled bubble she and Denise had woken up in busting around her. Shit, she dropped her head into her hand, what the hell was Denise going to tell her?

At seven-thirty, Enid and Denise were watching the news over egg whites and bacon and toast. Tara lingered in the doorway, trying to get a read on what Denise might consider to be the truth, and she felt sick. She didn't know whether or not to feel betrayed, but she was extremely worried. She did trust Denise, but Tara had lied to Alicia, and Denise couldn't know all those lies. If she did, she'd yank Enid out of Tara's life possibly forever. There would be no second chance. God, she was going to hurl. They weren't terrible, but still. How could they trust her to care and raise a child when she couldn't be truthful?

"I have to go." Denise was beside her. "I'm going to take time once this meeting's over. I'll call you...when I have my answer."

Tara numbly nodded.

"Don't worry. I wouldn't do anything that could lead to Enid being removed from your care." She leaned over and squeezed a few of Tara's fingers, not wanting to risk what happened last night happening again. She had places to be and a decision to make. The rest was trivial right now. "Goodbye."

"I love you," she murmured softly.

Denise grinned. "I love you too." She stepped back and released those fingers, heading out. "Goodbye, Enid. I'll see you later."

"Bye." Enid glanced over at Tara. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She plopped down beside her. "How are you?"

"A little tired. I tried to sleep, but I couldn't. I listened to some music, and I guess I passed out."

"Eric might be able to prescribe some type of medication to help you sleep."

"Maybe." She drank orange juice from her cup.

––

Alejándro darted through the house after the puppy Spencer had brought for him, Rosita jolted when the little hairball landed on the file in her lap, panting and licking at her, and Spencer apologized while Alejándro laughed.

"No, it's okay." She moved the file to the coffee table. "Aww, who is this little guy?"

"D.O.G." He let Alejándro name him, and it was the only name he could pronounce, so he went with it. "We went to the pet store, and I couldn't say no. I tried. I really did."

"Well, you're taking care of him, not me." She set the puppy down for Alejándro to chase. "You're potting training him, and you're going to help Alejándro take care of him."

"You're better at the potting training thing."

She smirked. "No."

"I'll make it up to you."

"How? You'll...do what?"

"I'll take you out to dinner. A fancy place with expensive wine and meals, and you can get all dressed up, and we can come back here and..." His eyes said the rest, and she rolled her eyes. "What?"

"That's more for you than for me."

"We both know you enjoy it as much as I do."

"Well, I don't want it." She scoffed at him and collected her things, heading to her bedroom, and he followed her. "I'm storming off. Go away."

"Not until I know what I did to piss you off."

"How about the fact you think your dick is so special that it trumps any of the other things I like?" She faced him. "Do you really not know a thing about me outside your bedroom?"

"I know you like expensive wines. I know you like to be pampered now and then, which is why I'm trying to do. No, I don't think my dick is all that special to you, but..." He sighed. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean for it to sound like it did. I'll come up with something else."

She dropped her head for a moment then leaned against the doorway. "Take me to dinner."

"No, I can think of something better. My mom has these spa tickets, but she has no one to go with. I know you two don't really get along, but I could—"

"No," she corrected. "I want you to take me to dinner."

He searched her eyes. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." However the twisting in her guts begged to differ. "Take me on a date."

"A—a date? Like a date?"

She nodded. "I want to try again with us. I want to take it slow, no surprise proposals, no telling our parents, no telling Alejándro. Just us, okay?"

"Yeah." He began to grin. "I'd love that."

She smiled back. "Oh, but afterwards we're having sex."

"Are we?"

She smirked. "Yes. We haven't in weeks, and it's not like it's our first date."

"Will you wear that black thing I like?"

"It's not our first date, but that's my fifth date attire. You'll just have to wait."

"Oh, come on, seriously?"

"It's not your birthday." She leaned up toward him. "But I will do that thing you like—if you buy me expensive wine."

"I can do that." He leaned down the rest of the way and kissed her. It felt more odd than he thought it would, as it would led nowhere, but it was nice. "I'll go get the puppy's stuff from the car."

She smiled. "Our date's on Friday, eight o' clock. We'll leave Alejándro with my mother since she doesn't ask as many questions as yours, and I expect a cheesy date. Flowers, candles, wine. Be romantic for once."

"I can be romantic."

"You made me a mixtape for our first year together," she reminded him. "And it started out with _Sexy Bitch._ "

He chuckled. "Okay, I've improved since then."

"God, I hope so."

He checked to make the cost was clear and kissed her once more. Softly. Slowly. In the way he always wanted to, but it exposed too much. It was a kiss one gave to the person they love, and he couldn't risk her knowing until now. They were trying again, and he would make sure it stuck. He loved her too much to not try and make it work.

She pulled back and swatted him with the file. "Sorry, mister, but I'm taken." She turned as Alejándro rounded the corner and scooped him up, having heard the little paws on the floor. She kissed his cheek and smirked at Spencer, who chuckled.

"Well, there's no beating that face."

"No, there isn't."

Alejándro reached for the puppy. "Put me down, Mommy."

"Nope." She held him even tighter. "Te quiero, mi amor." Her eyes were on Spencer as she embraced their little boy, but he was trying to stop the puppy from chewing on his shoe laces, and she smiled, feeling for the first time since the last time they'd called it quits that she'd made the right choice.

– – –

"You and Denise are serious?" Alicia walked beside Tara while Enid and Meghan strolled in front of them with their frappuccinos while Tara and Alicia had coffee. "I mean, obviously. You're working on fully adopting Enid, but..."

"I know what you mean." Tara moved hair from her mouth and drank from her cup. "I love her."

"And she loves you." Alicia knew the smile that danced on Tara's lips well. "That's good."

"We're still working through some things, but what couple isn't?" She glanced at her. "Why?"

"I'm feeling a little lousy. I always...thought our paths would cross again, and we'd get another shot." She shrugged. "It's odd that the woman I used to love loves someone else, is adopting a child with someone else. I'm happy for you, don't get me wrong, but...it's like stepping into the Bizarro."

"Have you been with anybody since...well, me?"

"Not seriously." She avoided a puddle and bumped into Tara. "Sorry."

"It's fine." She was just glad her coffee didn't go flying. She had a crap grip on it. "Do you want me to set you up?"

"No, no. That's too weird, even for me."

"I meant a great woman a while ago. Holly. I think you'd like her."

"Did you sleep with her?"

"No, there were issues clogging my head, and the date ended about ten seconds into it." She never even called to reschedule. "My sister's friends with her, so she could suggest you. I just hope she doesn't think you're like me."

"I'll consider it." She kept an eye on the girls. "Meghan seems better."

"She's getting there. She has her therapist and some new meds and me and Lilly and Denise. She has support and encouragement. It's been...a nightmare, but she's working her way through it." Tara beamed the back of her niece's head. "I'm proud of her progress. She's come so far, and she's gotten so strong."

"Sounds like someone else I know."

"No, Meg's stronger than me, and I'll admit it."

"Well, I'm glad she could tag along."

"Lilly practically tossed her on me today. She and Caesar have a date, and I don't even want to know the details. It's a lunch date, so I'm hoping the only physical thing that'll be done is chewing the sandwiches she and Meghan made."

They rounded the corner, Meghan and Enid were talking to someone, and Tara hurried ahead to tell them not to talk to strangers, but it was Denise and Dennis. Tara nearly fainted dead away at the loud-mouth man beside her, and Denise looked panicked herself at the sight of Alicia, and they seemed to have the same thought: get as far away from the other as possible.

"Tara, Alicia." Denise pulled out a smile. "It's good to see you again."

"Same to you." Alicia smiled a greeting. "Who's this?"

"My brother, Dennis."

"Hello." Alicia shook his head and introduced herself, including the fact that she was Tara's ex.

"So, what are you guys doing?" Dennis ran his eyes over the four of them, giving the girls a nod and smile.

"Just walking." Tara shrugged. "I have Meghan for the night, so we'll probably go to the movies, order something and hope I don't get called in."

"Oh, I can come...er, watch them when I get home." Denise bit her lip. She was an awful lair. "So just call and let me know. We're just going to grab lunch and talk."

"Well, have fun." Tara scooted the girls along. "I'll see you tonight."

"Yeah." Denise nodded. "Bye, girls."

"Bye."

Dennis watched the four of them leave and whipped his head around to his sister. "Her ex-girlfriend? She hangs out with her exes?"

"She's working Tara's case."

"She's trying."

"Shut up."

"I don't get how you can be so calm. It's obvious there's still some feelings there, at least from Alicia. She introduced herself as the ex. Who the hell does that? She was trying to make it uncomfortable."

"Maybe, but I trust Tara."

"To not sleep with her hot ex? You do remember that she adopted a kid behind your back, right?"

"She didn't sleep with anybody."

"Yet. That might be the next step."

"Dennis, enough! I trust her, all right? She's not going to cheat on me," she seethed. "I know her, and I trust her. You can be the protective older brother any day you want on any matter but her, all right? You don't know her like I do, so just stop."

He grinned. "Then why the hell aren't you with her?"

She blinked. "What?"

"I've been pushing your buttons all day to get you to realize this, and that was all it took? Damn, I wish I'd known about that sooner." He slipped his hands into his hoodie pocket. "You love her and trust her and know her, so why are we even meeting to talk over lunch?"

She didn't say anything.

"Either you're still in a daze after the sex— _four days later_ —or you're an asshole who wants to make her wait." He pointed at her through his hoodie pocket. "I'm an asshole, but not you. Unless you're channeling me, which I approve of entirely. Let's get you a tattoo. A bison."

She rolled her eyes. "Why the hell would I get a bison tattoo?"

"To match the one I got."

"Oh, God. I can't believe we shared a womb."

He nudged her arm. "At least I got you to confess how you really feel on Tara. I'm good for something."

"Barely. It took you three weeks to get here. Asshole."

"I told you I was." He smirked. "Like four sentences ago, I said it."

"Shut up and take me to lunch."

"Yes, ma'am."

She rolled her eyes and watched him walk down the street, thinking back to what Tara said in the cafe about her and Dennis, and she peeked over her shoulder in the direction of where Tara and her niece and Enid had been heading in. She had confirmed one thing, so perhaps the other...already was.

– – –

"To paint, or not to paint, that is the question." Tara collapsed onto the couch beside Enid with the sample colors they'd picked up while out with Alicia. "Meg, since it's no longer your second bedroom and you can't paint that room, you can help me decide what to paint the bathroom. I need some color in my life. This white's getting to me."

"Some kind of green." Meghan climbed onto the back of the couch to view the samples from over her aunt's shoulder. "Like that one."

"Pick out another one, and I'll decide between the two." She handed over the samples. "Have you found anything?"

"I kind of like this purple." Enid held it out. "I'm looking for a lighter one."

"Meghan has an eye for this kind of thing, so I'll let her help you. I'm going to check on the dinner." She hopped up and was halfway to the kitchen when she heard a knock on the door. "I'll get it."

Enid and Meghan mumbled an okay, looking over the purples and greens, and Tara smiled, shaking her head at being basically ignored. She wasn't worth a decent reply to that, but at least they were bonding. Enid would need a friend, and Meghan would be a great friend. And vice versa. They both underwent something traumatic and life-altering, and while it was two different experience, they could still understand it on a level Carl and Andre couldn't. That would be invaluable in the days to come.

Tara unlocked the door and opened it, finding Denise on the other side, and she stared. She knew Denise had a key, and she'd used it the last time she'd come over. So why did she knock this time? Her heart began to pound. Oh, God, it was over. She was going to give her key back and end it and walk away. She wasn't going to use the key, because it was a sign of how far they'd come, and she was giving it back.

"Could you come out here?" Denise stepped back into the hall.

"Why?" She could hardly hear with her heart thrashing in her chest, echoing in her ears.

"Just for some privacy."

"We can talk in my bedroom."

"I'd rather not."

"Okay." She turned to the girls. "I'll be right back. Find...find some good paint, okay?"

Meghan and Enid had heard Denise's voice and were interested in what was happening, though given Tara's pallor, they weren't too excited now to learn what was going on.

Tara pulled the door shut and walked down the hall to the steps, sitting down beside Denise, and she cleared her throat. Just rip the bandage off, there was no need prolonging this. It would only hurt more if they yanked inch by inch, if they eased into it.

"When did you decide?" Tara inquired in a hushed tone.

"Today." She rested her hands in her lap. "With Dennis."

She stiffly nodded, trying to keep as motionless as possible as to not let Denise know she was utterly mortified of what was going to come out of her mouth.

"I'll admit that I'm not sure what I'm doing," Denise confided. "I have no clue what you expect or what she expects, but I'll try my best. I can't be sure it's enough, but I'll learn."

Tara frowned and blinked at the blonde. _Wait, this doesn't sound like a break up._

"We can learn together. I suppose that's what it means to be parents. No one knows exactly what they're doing the first time. They just try. I'm not...certain how well I did side mommying Dennis, but I'll use what he taught me to help raise Enid with you." She searched those hazy chocolate orbs. "I love you so much that...I have to try, and I care about Enid too. She's a great kid, and the other night showed me I can't just move on from her or you. I want to see her recovery, and I want to be a part of her future, of your future together, and I can't pretend I don't."

"Denise..."

"There are some things we will have to talk about." She was smiling. "Like living together. Alicia will be very involved in the coming months, checking in on Enid and on us, and I know it seems too soon, but if we want to keep her, I'll have to be around more."

Tara smiled back at her. "You want to move in with us?"

"Until it's official," Denise corrected, "but who knows. I may come to enjoy living here."

Tara reached out and grasped her hand. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

"You're positive? I know you just said so, but this...is huge, Denise. I want you to be sure."

"I'm sure I love you, and I'm sure I want to be here with _both_ of you." She interlocked their fingers. "I'm in this...wherever it goes."

Tara cupped her with her free hand and drew her close to kiss her. "I love you so much." She hugged her then leaned back. "We have to tell the girls."

She leaned in to whisper, "You say like you don't know they're right down the hall, listening to this entire conversation."

Tara laughed. "True, but let's just pretend we don't know."

The couple collected themselves, Denise wiped the tears tenderly from Tara's eyes, kissing her lightly, and Tara tried to pull herself together. She didn't know she was so emotional. She was worked up and shaken at the thought of Denise breaking up with her that the news of her wanting to take the next step was too much. That was the only explanation she had.

Meghan and Enid were on the couch, with the paint samples on the coffee table, and they were holding the ones they liked most when the couple returned. They were trying to pretend like they hadn't eavesdropped, and Denise knew Enid stood no chance in the future of trying to lie to them. It was reassuring to know her tells were so blatant. And she just knew Meghan well enough to know she was crap at hiding. They really should have thought this through.

"You're back." Meghan stood up. "What's the verdict?"

"The verdict," Tara replied, "is we have a lot of nerdy books to move in here and not enough bookshelves, so one of you will have to go shopping with Denise to match a bookshelf to the paint you picked out."

"You're moving in?" Enid shot off the couch. "You're back together?"

"As if you didn't already know. We could hear you breathing."

"Yeah, but we didn't hear that." Meghan ran over and tackled her aunt and Denise in a tight hug. "I knew you'd work it out."

Denise laughed. "You're smarter than us then."

Meghan beamed and turned to Enid. "And they're gonna adopt you." She looked at Denise and Tara. "Right? She'll be my cousin."

"Right." Denise nodded. "You'll be family."

"And so will you," Enid reminded Denise. "Are you sure about this? I know it's a lot to ask, and I'm not the ideal child to adopt—"

"There's no such thing as ideal." Denise interjected softly. "I don't know how good of a mother I'll be, but I want to be your mother. One of. I'm not sure I'll be enough, but I'm going to try. That's all I can offer."

Enid's grey eyes filled with tears. "That's more than enough." She hugged her. "Thank you so much."

Denise returned her embrace, tenderly stroking the back of her head, and Enid continued to cry. They were happy tears. Not only was she going to have Tara in her life, as her adoptive mom, but she was going to have Denise too. She'd heard wonderful things about her from the officers, and she knew how kind and patient and compassionate she was when they were working her parents' case. She couldn't have asked for a better set of women to be her guardians. They understood, and they genuinely cared. The people in this world had been cruel to her, some had killed her parents, but they were also kind. Two were giving her a home.

Tara smiled and tossed an arm around her niece, pulling her closer and hugging her. "We make a family."

"Yeah, a nutty one." Meghan teasingly pushed at her aunt's side. "Good luck surviving us."

Enid would have replied had she not really broken down into the tears. She was thrilled to be given this chance, to never go back to the girls' home or a stranger's home, and she couldn't settle down. Meghan had this happen to her too a few nights after being released from the hospital, Denise knew how to handle it, and Tara had tissues and soft reassurances for her. It was a good sight. Enid in tears over good news, for once. They could only hope the good news became a permanent resident.

– – –

That night Tara busted out the massive air mattresses and pillows and blankets, digging into the meal they had prepared before Denise arrived once Enid had calmed down. It'd taken a good while for her to calm down, but it'd been a stressful week for all of them, and this was her entire life. She was powerless to the system, to the assholes who'd killed her parents, and they'd given her some of that power back. Any lesser reaction, and they might have had to worry.

She was home, and they'd make this her final stop. She was home, and there was no one else alive she wanted or trusted enough to be her guardians. Tara would ensure Alicia make that known should any bumps arise, and that they'd fight like hell for her. Meghan and Lilly and all of Tara's team—hell, maybe even Dennis—would fight like hell for Enid to stay with them. She felt safe here. She felt wanted. She could collect herself and start again here. And that was what was important here. This was best for Enid's mental stability and healing process and future. It was best for Enid, and Denise would ensure the courts, the social workers, and anybody else who tried to object saw it that way.

The girls were sharing an air mattress, watching the movie and giggling now and then at something Tara and Denise didn't care to find out about. They were laughing and smiling and eating and whispering like two sisters, and Tara knew the dangers of whispering sisters, but it was a lovely sight for sore eyes.

Tara rolled over on the mattress to peer at her girlfriend, and Denise looked over at the feel of eyes on her. Tara was smiling, and she reached over and laced her fingers through Denise's. As always, they fit perfectly, and Tara moved their intertwined fingers over her heart, her eyes locked on Denise's.

"I don't have words to explain how much you mean to me, and I don't have words to say how thankful I am that you are...exactly who you are, but I can say I'm here. I'm in this too, and you mean the world to me." She spoke softly, in a whisper as these words were meant only for Denise. "Whatever happens next...happens, and it'll be okay, because I have you, and we'll fight for Enid together."

"Of course." She tried to blink back the tears those sweet words had brought, but she wasn't successful.

Tara leaned over and kissed her. She had a new goal in mind, aside from adopting Enid permanently. She was going to make sure Denise knew how much she meant to Tara. She was going to make sure Denise was damn elated, felt loved and felt that the journey ahead with Enid was for both of them, was for Enid, not just Tara and Enid. She would do this, because when the world was spinning off around her, Denise was the only thing keeping her grounded. Because she loved her and had made a mistake by not involving her in the decision to attempt to adopt Enid. Because Denise deserved to feel that way every single day—perhaps not the fighting for Enid bit, but maybe fighting _with_ Enid if they really sank into their parenting roles. She would see to it.

Denise could see the resolve in her girlfriend's eyes, and she knew she'd made the correct choice. It would be one hell of a battle for custody of Enid, and it would be a new start with Tara as her girlfriend. They were going to be living together, attempting to gain permanent guardianship over Enid, and it was all going to happen rather quickly. It may take months to gain guardianship, but starting tomorrow it all began. The part of her life she wasn't sure she'd ever have or even wanted began tomorrow. She still wasn't positive she was ready for it, but she wasn't going to let fear take away one of the best things life had brought her. If she wanted to live, if she wanted to be truly happy, she had to take chances. That's just how it worked, and that's what she was doing now. It was quite the gamble, but she liked the odds.


	30. Epilogue: The Future Awaits

_A/N: I'm sorry for the delay in this story, but I'd recently lost a family member around the time I began to write this chapter. I wanted to finish this story for you all and myself, but it wasn't easy. So, I hope you all enjoy this, and I hope you had happy holidays, and may the new year bring us all better luck._

* * *

 ** _Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

– – –

 _Two Years Later_

 _The sun goes down, the stars comes out. And all that counts is here and now_

 _My universe will never be the same. I'm glad you came_

Tara pressed her fingertips into her temple, shaking her head back and forth, and Denise was trying to sooth her temper. It wasn't working. There was little to do to ease Tara right now. She was beyond annoyed, and she couldn't find a way to express it. Well, there was one way, but she couldn't do it. She would likely be removed if she tried. She had been warned once already, and she normally would have ignored it, but she couldn't this time. She had plans tomorrow, and she didn't want an irked teenager to be there.

"It was rigged." Tara walked back to the car that night with Denise and the girls. "You should have won!"

"Aunt Tara, it's okay." Meghan looped her arm through her aunt's. "It was just one volleyball game. We're not out for the count just yet."

"I know, but it was rigged. That ref was a joke."

"You almost made him cry." Enid walked beside Denise with her hands in her pockets. "It was impressive and embarrassing. I asked you not to get so worked up over it."

"I know, but...I care, okay? Sue me."

"Would I get my own phone if I did?" Enid smiled sweetly.

"No," Denise and Tara returned.

"Why not? Meghan has a cell phone."

"You've lost the last four emergency phones we've had," Denise reminded the sixteen-year-old. "We told you when you prove you're responsible enough for a cell phone, we'll talk about it."

She threw her head back and groaned. "You're both impossible!"

"We're parents," Tara smirked back at her. "We're supposed to be impossible."

She sighed and averted her eyes for a moment before meeting Tara's gaze. "When is your ceremony? I know Denise is taking me, but I want to know when I should get dressed."

"It's at ten."

"In the morning?"

"Yep."

Enid nodded. "I'll wear my best dress."

"You could come in pajamas, and I wouldn't care." Tara unlocked the car. "I just want you both there. Since Meghan has let me down. And Lilly."

"It's not like Meghan set out to have her tonsils removed." Denise held the back door open for the girls.

"She could have held it together for another day."

"Or choked in her sleep."

"That wasn't a firm maybe. It was a soft maybe."

"There was a no maybe."

"You weren't there."

"Neither were you."

"That's very true, but I was there in spirit."

"Oh? In spirit?" Denise smirked. "Okay, you do remember where you were in person, right?"

Tara chuckled and tripped backward towards the driver's side door, Enid ducked into the car to escape her embarrassing parents, and Meghan was confused for a moment then caught on and followed Enid into the car, blushing. Denise closed the door and laughed at just how wrong the girls were in their assumptions.

"Court was so boring that day. I nearly fell asleep in the pews." She tucked hair behind her ear. "I hate custody hearings."

"Why?"

"Because of all the ones we went through for Enid." She curled her lips into a disgusted sneer. "It damn near took forever, and for about a month I wasn't sure if we'd get her or not. I just don't like them. I'd rather stick to what I'm good at."

"You helped keep that child out of a suspect's home. She may not have done the crime, but she wasn't a good person. She didn't want that girl out of the goodness of her heart. She wanted the money attached to her. You did the right thing, so don't pretend like that was taxing."

Tara smiled softly. "I wasn't. I just hate custody hearings." She opened the car door. "Let's get home and feed the girls before they turn on us."

"You're worse than the two of them."

"So let's get home and feed me. That popcorn did nothing for me."

Denise laughed. "The nachos either?"

"No, they just gave me heartburn."

"Poor you."

"I know. I keep burping them up too." She groaned at the taste of it. "It's just awful."

"I could have warned you," Enid said from the backseat, "but you were late."

"I had court. It ran late. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It's not like we won anyhow."

"Don't get her started on that again," Meghan softly groaned.

"Oh, but she did, and I am," Tara teased. "Now, about that serve—"

"Tara, we love you, but if you don't stop talking about that damned serve, we'll throw you out of the car." Denise set her hand over Tara's on the steering wheel. "Okay?"

"Now that just hurts."

"It will if you don't talking about the serve," Meghan jokingly mumbled.

"Can you just feel the love in this car?" Tara started the engine and smiled at her girlfriend. "All right, ladies, let's go home."

– –

Tara walked into her and Denise's bedroom that night, brushing the tangles out of her shoulder-length black hair, wincing at the knots, and she saw Denise looking over her schedule again. For the past couple of nights, she'd seen her doing this, and normally she didn't bite, but she was curious to know what was on her mind for the past few nights.

"What are you up to?" She stood by the end of the bed, minding the frame against her hip.

She exhaled and raised her head. "It's been over two years since we met. Do you know that?"

"Yeah." She set her hairbrush down on the dresser and climbed onto the bed. "I kept track so I knew when to buy an anniversary gift. I had the girls help me pick it out. I still missed the date, but I have the gift."

"We haven't even talked about gifts."

"I know, but I still got you one." She smirked. "I'll give it to you before Martin's birthday."

"He might get upset if you do it during."

"I refuse to give this gift to a two year old."

"What is it?"

"I'm not giving any hints."

"That's not fair."

"Yeah, a lot of things aren't fair." She leaned over and kissed her. "Like how we have to babysit two teenagers for the night."

"It has been a while, hasn't it?"

"You've been crazy busy at the office, and I had the jackass who kept burying twelve year olds alive." She blew out a sigh. "I feel like I've barely gotten to see you. We pay the same rent and live in the same apartment, but I never see you."

"Well, why don't we make some time before the party?" Denise reached over and laced her fingers through Tara's. "We can get some coffee...maybe grab some lunch and come back here. I have the entire day off, and I think criminals know better than to kill on Sasha's first born's birthday. They have to sense the vibe she's giving off."

Tara laughed. "That's true. She is a mama puma when it comes to this type of thing." She searched her girlfriend's eyes. "Let's do it. The girls have school, so I'll drop them off and meet you for coffee."

They lied down for the night, Denise set her glasses and schedule on the nightstand, and Tara hit the lights, stretching out. She felt Denise's hand slide through her hair, and she found those shiny eyes in the darkness, their lips not doubt mirroring the others in a wicked grin.

"You realize we probably won't make lunch, right?"

"Probably." She leaned up and kissed her. "Get some sleep. You look exhausted."

"That's my line." She tenderly brushed hair back from Tara's face. "You're the one who's overworked."

"We live in New York. It isn't the safest place in the world." She was being lulled to sleep by the repeated movement of Denise's hand gliding through her hair. "And you've been busy too..."

"Just get some sleep." Denise kissed her forehead once then her lips, finding her eyes in the dark. "I love you."

Tara smiled. "I love you too." She rolled over and captured Denise's hand, kissing it. "Good night."

"Good night."

– – –

"Did you even buy him a gift?" Enid sat at the table with a bowl of cereal the next morning. "An age appropriate gift."

"Yes." Tara rolled her eyes. "And for the last time the motor bike wasn't for him. It was for a very...small person."

"Uh-huh." Enid smirked around a bite of cereal. "Mmm. Who's picking me up?"

"Denise is. I have to stop by the store and buy dip, because two teenager girls thought their little midnight snack wouldn't be noticed." Tara sent a slight glare to Enid and Meghan. "You couldn't eat the cookies."

"I wanted salt," Enid replied. "And Meghan will eat just about whatever you put in front of her."

"That's not true." Meghan crossed her arms. "I don't eat red meat anymore."

"Fine. She'll eat just about whatever junk food you put in front of her." She smiled sweetly at her cousin who elbowed her in the ribs, and she laughed.

"Jerk." Meghan stood up. "I'm going to head down to the car and warm it up."

"Winter is nearly upon us." Tara tossed a beanie at her niece. "Put a coat on."

"I am." She tugged the beanie over her hair and swiped her coat. "Hurry up, please. I have a chem test I need to study for. I can't fail this one and pass the class."

"I'm chewing." Enid shoved in another spoonful.

"I refuse to chug hot coffee. I will sip it to my heart's content." She drank from her mug, trying to find her travel mug, but she couldn't. She'd been looking all morning, but it hadn't turned up. She'd ran out of ideas, so she would just borrow Denise's. She knew Denise would silently object as she always did when Tara used her cup, because she always lost it for about two or four days. She actually went out and bought a new one for her when she couldn't find it the last time. She believed Denise knew it was new, but she didn't say anything. She suspected the other had showed up, and she kept it at work to keep up the charade. It was something Denise would do.

"All right, kiddo, let's haul ass." Tara closed the lid as Enid set her empty bowl in the sink. "We can't let Meg fail."

"No, we cannot." She shrugged into her coat. "Let's hit the road."

Tara reached over and tugged the white beanie down over her ears. "There, you're all set."

"I can't even see." She tugged it back up. "Do you want me to fall down the steps and break my neck?"

"We're taking the elevator."

"Well, I could still fall and bust my ass."

"Where's the trust? Do you think I'd spend a year fighting for you just to let you fall on your ass and make a fool of yourself? Or possible sprain or break something?"

"I guess not." She smiled a little. "Come on. I'll let you push the button."

"Walk." Tara nudged her and locked up the apartment, chuckling. The anniversary of their adoption of Enid was also coming up. It'd been a little over a year since they'd gained full custody of the teenager. She and Denise were planning a party to celebrate this year together as a family. It would just be them and Meghan and Lilly and probably Caesar and everyone Tara worked with. It'd be crowded, but they were family too, and they'd accepted Enid as such. It was amazing how they'd taken to her, and her to them. It made Tara proud to have these people in her life. She didn't need to adopt a baby for them to teach and watch grow for them to become attached and involved. They genuinely loved Enid and asked after her. She was part of their families, and it was incredible. They made her feel so welcome at the Grimes' annual BBQ, and at Sasha's son's first birthday, and when Rosita and Spencer announced their engagement, they made sure Enid was there to hear the news. Tara loved them so much for making that effort.

"Come on." Enid was in the elevator. "Stop daydreaming, or I'll tell Denise."

"Are you really gonna pull the "Tell Denise" card on me when you cut history last week?"

She blanched. "You know?"

"Yeah, I know."

"How?"

"That's not important. What is important is that you attend class."

"It's the same old stuff. We never learn anything new, and I'm ready for my final exam." She shrugged her shoulders. "But if you want, I'll stick around."

"Good, because I don't want Denise to find out. She'll grill both our asses."

"Yeah, my lips are sealed."

Denise was the disciplinary of the household, and holy fuck did she discipline the shit out of them.

– – –

"Alejándro." Rosita wandered the apartment, trying to find the seven-year-old to get him ready for school. He wasn't in his bedroom, and he wasn't in the bathroom. He wasn't in their bedroom either. There were few other places he went, so she was rapidly running out of areas to search. She had no clue where that little boy ran off too. She knew he didn't like getting up this early, so why did he get up and hide from her? He was in bed at five. She'd woken up to pee, and he was in bed, so what the hell? Where was that boy? "Alejándro?"

She entered the kitchen and found breakfast waiting for her on a tray with a singe tulip in a small plastic vase Spencer had glued onto the tray last Mother's Day when the glass one fell over and shattered. There were three pancakes and toast and eggs and fatty bacon with orange juice. She smiled at the sight of it, but didn't understand why it was there.

"No, no, no, no." Alejándro entered the kitchen and pushed his mom back. "You ruined the surprise!"

"Surprise?" She smiled even more. "Oh. I'm so sorry. I'll just go back to my room and pretend I didn't see this."

"You promise?"

"I can't promise, because I don't know what I'm promising. Gee, I'm bushed." She forced a yawn and headed back to her bedroom, curling up under the warm blankets. She could have fallen back to sleep easy, but she had an appointment at eleven. She couldn't miss that. If she did, she'd have two angry mothers calling her, four of her detectives calling to harass her, and Mother Hen Spencer wouldn't let her breathe without trying to see if she was sick or something. So many people cared about her; it was ridiculous, and she loved every single one of them.

Alejándro carried in the tray, needing help lifting it up so high, and she smiled when he sat across from her. "For mi hermana."

She stared. "Who told you?"

"Daddy told me."

"Oh, he did, did he?" She was going to kill a Monroe in about five minutes. She told him not to say anything. She couldn't believe him. They were going to tell him together, and he went and told him all by himself? Asshole. She didn't plan on having anymore kids, so now her only chance to tell her child she was pregnant and they were becoming a big brother was gone. Oh, he was dead meat.

"Well, Grandpa told me first then Daddy."

"Grandpa Reg?"

He nodded.

"Oh." Damn, now she couldn't kill him for spilling the beans. Reg likely didn't mean to do it, and she couldn't go off on him. He was such a sweetie. Ugh, she'd have to just let it go. Damn.

"Buddy, I said fruit." Spencer entered the bedroom with a cup of fruit salad, and he plucked the bacon off the plate. "These are for us."

"You're taking my bacon?" Rosita arched a brow at him.

"You weren't supposed to have it in the first place."

"You do not take my bacon." She reached up and took it back. "I'll eat the fruit until I'm a kiwi, but you don't take my bacon."

He sighed. "Fine, but that's the last of it."

"Then buy some more." She chewed on a big bite, watching his frown deepen. "Spencer, we've been through this. It's my body, and I can work out what I need for myself. If you play Mother Hen, I'll have to kick you out for seven months."

"Fine. I'll let it go." He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Good morning, by the way."

"Good morning." She smiled up at him. "Thank you for breakfast."

"You're welcome. It was a team effort." He set a hand on their son's shoulder. "I had to pick eggshells out of your pancakes, but it's all good."

"I can't wait to eat them now." She poked it with her fingernail. "Would you take the first bite?"

"What? Why me?"

"Because you're the cook, and I don't want the baby to ingest eggshell."

"Fine." He tested the pancake. "It's fine. It's actually really good."

"Well, you guys can dig in too. I'm not that hungry yet."

Spencer moved between Rosita and the frame of the bed, helping himself to another bite while Alejándro had some of the fruit, and Rosita snuggled up against him. He wrapped an arm around her waist, Alejándro was smirking at them, and Rosita fished out a strawberry from the fruit salad.

"Hey," Spencer whispered by her ear, "if this baby's not a girl, we're over."

She laughed. "Dude, that isn't my choice. Your little swimmers decide, not me."

"Well, I was lucky and got the son I always wanted last time." He smiled at Alejándro and kissed Rosita's cheek, whispering, "And I got lucky and was able to start over with you, so I'm sure we'll have a little girl."

"I guess we'll find out." She turned and kissed his lips, pinching his jaw and crinkling her nose at him.

Alejándro giggled at his parents.

"At least someone is amused." Spencer freed his jaw and sent Rosita a playful glare.

"Watch it, mister, I'm the person you sleep with at night. It can be really cold, or really...really hot." She lowered her voice at the end, suggestively tracing her tongue over the tip of the strawberry, and he gulped. "It's up to you."

"I'll behave if you do."

"I'm always on my best behavior." She nibbled on the strawberry. "Right, baby?"

Alejándro nodded.

"He's a mama's boy. His opinion doesn't count."

"You're just jealous." She then caught his eye. "That's why you want a little girl. You want a Daddy's girl, don't you? Aww, Spence, do you feel left out?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, that's not why I want a little girl. I want a daughter, because you said you don't want more than two kids, and I'd like to have a son and a daughter." He rested his head on her shoulder. "Sue me."

"I just might if you try and pressure me to have a girl if this one's a boy."

"Pressure you?" Alejándro asked.

"Yep. Daddy will get annoying and ask me and you and God to give us a daughter and you a little sister until the cows come home, and we're expecting a girl."

"I'm not that bad," he griped.

"Yes, you are." She sat up and drank her orange juice. "If you keep pushing it, the universe will give you a boy just to screw with you."

He blew out a sigh. "That's true." He checked his watch and stood up. "All right, little dude, it's time for school."

"Is it?" Rosita grasped his wrist to check the time and frowned. "I wish we had a little more time together."

"I could just stay home," Alejándro suggested.

"Cute, but no. You need an education, and I have to get to work." She stretched her arms. "I'll have to get some coffee on the way."

"Decaf, right?"

"Don't remind me." She slipped off the bed. "I'm going to shower. Why don't you take him to school?"

"Don't I always?"

"And you're so good at it." She smirked and kissed Alejándro's hair. "I'll see you after school. I'm picking you up."

"Okay." He grinned and hopped up. "Let's go, Daddy. It's my turn to feed the class turtle, and if I'm late, someone else will do it!"

"I'm coming. I'm coming." Spencer rose off the bed. "Get your shoes on."

"Bye, baby." Rosita waved to them and headed to the bathroom to shower, stretching her arms again and yawning. She was grateful to be one of those women who didn't have morning sickness, otherwise the entire household would be puking. Alejándro couldn't stand the sound or sight of it, and Spencer had a weak stomach to begin with. They couldn't watch scary movies because of it; she typically watched them over at Tara's for that exact reason. Oh, well. She was happy nevertheless. She was with child and engaged, Alejándro was thrilled about the wedding and about being a big brother, and Spencer was...well, damn ecstatic. Embarrassingly so. If he kept it up, she wouldn't be seen in public with that overbearing, embarrassing sweetheart.

– – –

"All right, everybody," Sasha announced to the team as Tara and Rosita strolled in together with coffees. "You might not know, but Martin's birthday is next week."

"'Might not know'?" Michonne echoed. "How the hell wouldn't we know? You've told us every day for the past _month_. I know his birthday better than my own sons'."

"I just wanted you to know."

"Trust me," Noah assured her, "we know."

Tara nodded. "I could get Alzheimer's and still know his damn birth date," she grumbled teasingly around a sip of coffee.

"Well, good. Now I can stop reminding you." She smirked and crossed her arms. "It's at Bob's parents' home. We have the food and drinks and cake sorted, so just bring yourself and gifts. Please try to be on time, if you're not early. His parents...run a tight ship."

"Great. Sounds fun." Tara sat at her desk. "Can I bring booze to spike my own drinks with?"

"Absolutely not."

"Like I would."

Rosita opened her office door. "No drinking at any events we all go too. We made that deal when Michonne got pregnant, and as I'm pregnant now—no booze."

"Why did we make that rule?" Noah inquired.

"Because we have fun when we're drunk, and pregnant ladies aren't fun." Tara squealed and ducked when Rosita chucked a juice box at her. It was empty, but Rosita had force to make that shit hurt. "Dude!"

"That's Captain Dude to you." She winked and stepped into her office.

"Where did you even get this?" Tara picked up the box of juice from the floor. They had enough risks for ants, and they didn't need this adding to it.

"I don't even know. I let Spencer and Alejándro hang out in here a couple weeks ago, and I keep finding them. I found one in my filing cabinet." She shook her head. "My filing cabinet! Like what the hell were they doing in there? Alejándro's not tall enough to each where it was, and I don't know what the hell made Spencer even open them."

"He's nosy and dumb," Noah offered, only half-teasing.

"Yeah, pretty much." She nodded. "But I never said that. I have work to do, and so do all of you, so let's get this started. We have to at least look like we're professionals."

"Then I should just go home right now," Tara stated.

"You're so cute, Chambler." Rosita smiled tightly. "But if anybody gets to leave, it's Noah."

"Why him?" She groaned.

"I have a sickly infant at home," he reminded her. "Hershel and Maggie have immune systems of gold, and sometimes Beth's manages to not utterly suck, but our daughter? No. She gets sick at the drop of a hat, and she's sick now. Again."

"Why didn't you tell me? I have a nurse in the family." Tara dug out her phone. "I'll make Lilly send her friend over. Amy, I think. She's recently broadened...whatever she needed to broaden to work with babies."

He laughed. "Don't worry about it. Maggie and Annette are with her. It's just an ear infection."

"Are you saying that so I don't send an army of nurses to your home?" Tara narrowed her eyes.

"Yes. Yes, I am. I can't put my wife through that. She's had little sleep, and honestly I'm a little scared of her. I don't need her chewing me out when I get home."

"Your wife is so the boss in your relationship."

"Not really," he confessed. "She's just the louder one. It's from all the singing lessons she had as a kid. She can lecture me for an hour with minimal breathing." He smiled fondly. "Though...she sings the kids to sleep, so I can't complain. They love to hear her sing..."

"Oh, my God. Take your perfect relationship and get outta my face." Tara tossed the juice box at him. "I feel so left out. I'm the only one not engaged or married."

"Hello." Dawn waved her hand. "At least you have a girlfriend. I have no one."

"Yeah, well, you're an awful person." She plopped down in her seat and grinned. "I'm adorable."

"That's one word for it," Sasha teased.

"The other also starts with an A," Michonne jested from behind her cup of coffee.

Tara flipped them off with the same grin she'd pointed at Dawn, collecting her pen when they laughed and began her work for the day. She scribbled a note out on the edge of her notepad, reminding her to pick up Enid. She also had a bit of shopping to do for Marty's birthday, and there was something else she wanted to take a peek at. Sadly, she would have a tag along for this little venture, because Denise wouldn't be able to make it out of the office to pick her up. She could hope the side kick could keep her little lips sealed.

––

Enid kicked her foot up, grasping the straps to her backpack as she and Tara walked the streets with the snacks they'd picked up for Marty's second birthday, as Denise had come down with a spinach and artichoke dip addiction, and Sasha wouldn't buy it, because she hated artichoke. Enid wondered where they were headed to now. It wasn't so late in the day that she should worry about being up late to finish her homework, but it was late in walking down the street without Tara telling her where they were going. It'd been a good ten minutes of silence, and she didn't typically mind. Tara had a demanding job, and she had a lot on her mind, but this was different. She was contemplating something intensely, and Enid was curious as to what it was, but she'd wait. She'd hear what Tara was gnawing on soon enough.

"Huh?" Enid noticed Tara had stopped walking and turned to face her, finding her standing by the door of a Tiffany's. She blinked and approached her, standing beside her and gasping so loudly Tara jolted, seemingly forgetting the young girl was even with her. "Oh, my God!"

"What?" Tara paled. "I mean—There's a penny, like...on the ground. Oh, and it's face up! Lucky penny!" She laughed nervously as the young girl scrutinized her, and she held up the shiny penny, swallowing hard.

"Are you gonna propose to Denise?" Her eyes widened and sparkled. "Is that why you've been uncharacteristically quiet?"

She heaved a sigh. "Look, Enid, it's not...entirely what it looks like."

"So...you're not proposing." Her eyes dropped to the ground, and Tara could see her heart sink.

"I don't want to rush into anything, and that seems to be all Denise and I do. I want to take it slow, and that's what the last couple years have been. I really...love having you two in my life. You two keep me going when the weight of my cases wants to crush me. You're everything to me, and...lately I've been thinking of ways to show you both just how much you mean to me." She inhaled deeply. "That's why I'm here."

Enid raised her head. "What do you mean?"

"I'm done...taking it slow." She smiled. "I'm ready to take that next step, and Denise and I have talked about it. Sometimes jokingly, sometimes in all seriousness. We haven't lately, but...I've spoken to Dennis and gotten his opinion. I checked with Lilly and Meg, and now I'm checking with you. Do you think—?"

"Yes!" Enid interrupted excitedly then flushed at how she'd rudely cut her off. "I'm sorry. I just... Yes." She inhaled deeply and let it out. "Yes."

"Care to look at some ring options with me then?" She pointed to the door. "You know her jewelry taste best."

"Yeah, 'cause you avoid shopping at all costs." Enid opened the door. "And she doesn't have any particular tastes. Just...nothing glitzy."

"I know that much!"

"Shh." She put a finger to her lips when they entered, and Tara rolled her eyes. "I hope you have enough money for this."

"Of course. I wouldn't make this decision and buy some cheap tin ring."

"Just checking." She grinned and peeked at one of the displays, eyes lighting up.

Tara smiled at the sight. She'd made the right choice involving the kid. She and Denise were closer in some ways, as parent and child. Tara worked late nights, but Denise was home at a decent hour to help Enid with her homework and any trouble she had with...boys—Tara didn't approve of her dating or having "boy troubles", but it wasn't like she could do anything about it. She knew if anyone else besides her could pick out a perfect engagement ring for Denise, it was Enid.

"Hey, look at this one!" Enid pointed at the glass toward a ring.

Tara leaned over and felt her soul die at the price. She pushed Enid away from the case. "Nope. I'd have to sell my soul, and trust me, it ain't worth that much."

"I thought you prepared for this."

"I did."

"Not well enough apparently."

"Just keep looking—within my price range, please."

"Yes, ma'am." She saluted and wondered off in search of the perfect ring.

Tara sighed softly and began to look over the rings herself. She didn't know if the perfect ring existed, but they'd tried their best to find it. She wanted to make this moment memorable, and she wasn't going to get hung up on the details. Whenever she tried super hard to make things perfect, it all went to shit, so she'd wait for the moment to come to her.

She smiled blissfully, thinking of the flaxen beauty at work right now, in that white blouse with her hair in a messy ponytail, working hard in her office. Warmth flooded her heart, and she asked to see a set of rings. And if the moment didn't present itself naturally...then she'd just have to make the moment happen.

Enid looked up from ogling the beautiful rings she'd likely never be able to afford and that would be too flashy for Denise when the woman behind the counter began to hand Tara a set of rings. She scurried over to observe what Tara had chosen, and she smiled at how right it was for the two of them. She gave Tara her approval, and Tara laughed, just happy it fell within her price range. She was damn elated that they were...just what she had been looking for.

– – –

Enid and Tara brought home takeout that night, Denise was on the phone with someone, and Tara had Enid set the table, taking a moment to observe her girlfriend. She was curled up in the armchair, one leg hanging over, the other hugging her chest, a notepad on her thigh, and she was definitely into whatever the other person was saying. It was adorable to see her like that. Plus she was in Tara's nightshirt, which Tara should have a problem with, but after the last couple of months of Denise making excuses to wear it, she's learned to let it go. Besides it wasn't like she was taking any other articles of Tara's clothing. Well, yet anyway.

"I'm gonna pig out in, like, one second if you two don't hurry up." Enid set her backpack by the couch. "Lunch was vile, so I only milk and an apple, and I am starving. I could actually eat a horse."

Tara arched her brow. "Enid, honey, don't take this the wrong way, but I've seen you devour an entire meal in ten minutes and then go back for seconds. Please, starving? When the hell aren't you? And I don't even know where it goes."

"I play sports, and I'm a growing girl." She smirked.

"Yep, and I'm proud to say you're growing into a fine pain in the ass."

She rolled her eyes. "Can we _please_ eat?"

"Yeah, she's in her own little world." Tara guided Enid back to the kitchen to grab drinks.

"Oh, do you want me to put the chair in my room?" Enid inquired, pulling out a pitcher of lemonade and her bottle of Code Red.

"Yeah, I would. Thanks." The chair was code for the rings.

"You're welcome."

They sat down for dinner, Enid filled their glasses and Tara dug into the egg rolls, and Denise joined them, apologizing about being on the phone. She made sure to greet Enid with a brief shoulder squeeze and smile as she weaved through the dining room to her seat, and she placed a kiss to Tara's lips, earning a teasing eye roll from the teen.

"How was your day, Enid?" Denise helped herself to the noodles.

"It was good. Lunch was crap, but I discovered I can survive for a few hours of school on an apple and chocolate milk." She nodded as if proud of herself. "Then I had Carl buy me a candy bar, and I powered my way through the last class."

"Carl, huh?"

"What's with the tone?" Enid lowered a spoonful of fried rice from her mouth. "God, don't tell me you think I liked him."

"I didn't mean to imply that. I just meant...sooner or later, I'm gonna get a call from Lori telling me to give you money for snacks." Denise had already gotten a call from her asking her to not keep Carl over so late on a school night. It was Tara's fault, but she wasn't going to point fingers. She understood Lori's reasoning, and Denise would have done the same thing, but Denise had enough people complaining to her. She didn't need to add more people to that list.

"Well, good—and don't make any assumptions on my sexuality."

Tara choked on her drink and coughed for about five minutes. "Sorry." She cleared her throat, and Enid giggled. "I just didn't expect that."

Enid laughed even harder.

"Enid, don't try and make Tara choke," Denise scolded.

"Sorry." She held her hands up as a peace offering. "I won't do it again."

"Yeah, and don't mention sex or sexuality to me, please." Tara pointed to her girlfriend. "You talk to Denise about that stuff, because if you tell me, I may have to abuse my power and run a background check on 'em."

"Don't you dare!"

"So, there is someone?" Tara smirked.

"No, but don't you dare try and run background checks on my future...whatevers!"

"Fine, fine, but my fingers are totally crossed." She winked and bit into her egg roll.

"Tara!"

"Enid!"

"Cut it out," Denise chastised. "Both of you."

"She started it," Tara retorted.

"And she's impossible," Enid grumbled.

"You're both being ridiculous, and if Enid does start dating someone, we'll meet them. No background checks, but if we don't like any vibes this person gives off, you won't be dating them." They both sighed, but nodded, and Denise shook her head. "I feel like I'm raising two teenagers instead of one."

"I'm just trying to give Enid the whole parent package. I'm being the stereotypical father: I don't trust my daughter, I think I can decide what she does, and I don't trust any boys her age," Tara replied. "You're the mom."

"I'm the mom?"

Tara nodded.

"Totally," Enid agreed. "She couldn't be the mom if you paid her."

"I can part-time it."

"Eh."

"Eh?" Tara repeated. "What the hell is "eh"?"

"Well, it's still in deliberation."

"What is? My part-time moming?"

"Yes."

Denise watched the two most important women in her life go back and forth, shaking her head and sighing into her lemonade, but a smile crossed her lips. She was slightly annoyed, but mostly amused and highly contented. They were her girls, and through all the fighting and teasing and tears, she loved them. She was truly elated with them, her ridiculous and sarcastic and amazing girlfriend, and the daughter she never thought she'd have. They'd made quite a family the last few years, and she didn't know when she started down this path to earn these relationships, to earn this bliss, but she was thrilled she had.

Enid passed out on the couch after dinner, Denise covered her with a blanket and let her sleep there as neither could lift the girl. She wasn't a heavy thing or anything like that, but they were exhausted and lacked muscles required to lift anything beyond a case file. Michonne put them all to shame, save for Sasha who was a buff ass bitch. Like she could bench press Rosita and Tara at the same time and not break a sweat. It was a wonder the baby didn't come out with a six pack.

"I heard about Becca." Denise pulled the hair tie out of her hair gently. "Did Noah say how she was doing now?"

"She's a one year old with an ear infection. Like her dad, she's a cry baby. She'll be fine." Tara shrugged into her nightshirt. "Besides I had Lilly pay her a visit, even though Noah told me not to. Beth can chew me out, but what did she expect me to do? I mean, I'm still not the godmother, but I have to outplay Maggie somehow."

She laughed. "There's still a chance of Rosita making you the godmother of her baby when its born."

"I doubt it. She has a big family, and Sasha chose her brother. I'll never be a godmother." She smiled to herself. "I guess I'll just settle for being a mother." Her eyes lifted to the mirror Denise was standing in front of. "And girlfriend."

"Oh, so you're settling for me and Enid then?"

"Okay, I meant for that to sound romantic, and I don't know how to dig myself out of this." Denise laughed again, and Tara wasn't sure if it was at her or not. "What?"

"It's nothing." She walked over to her. "We have to get some sleep. I have appointments and shopping to do."

"Shopping?"

"Marty's birthday. We didn't get a card."

"He can't even read."

"Yeah, but when he's older and can read, I'd like him to look back at it."

"You're a sentimental freak." Tara wrapped her arms around Denise's waist.

"Look who's talking."

"That's true." She smiled and leaned up to kiss her. "Do we have to sleep?"

"Yes." She tenderly brushed the hairs from Tara's cheek away. "There's plenty of time for that when our lives aren't busy."

"So...next never?"

"Pretty much."

Tara heaved a sigh. "Maybe I can get Enid out of the house for a night."

"And then have her attend my early appointments? And do your job?"

"She's competent."

"Okay, now I'm worried you're not joking."

"I am." She lowered her arms. "Why do you always make sense? Why can't I go to work exhausted?"

"Because if I go to work exhausted, my biggest drawback is a pissed off patient. If you go to work exhausted, the drawback is getting shot or having someone else get shot. I don't want you to ever be in that position, but you have to be, so please just try and stay alert. For my sake and our daughter's."

She offered a sleepy and goofy grin. "I love you too."

Denise smiled and stroked her cheek. "Good night, Tara."

"Good night, Denise."

– – –

"Lilly..." Tara stood in the doorway to her sister's apartment, finding a mountain of boxes littering the living room, a baby wailing somewhere inside, and Meghan nibbling on a Pop Tart while studying for a test. She didn't know what the hell happened since she last came to visit three weeks ago, but there was no way it was this much.

Lilly emerged from the bedroom with the crying infant. "Hey, I'm so glad you're here."

"Yeah, seeing this mess and how I offered to help, I'm not." She climbed over a pile of shoes. "And why do you have Becca?"

"Babysitting. Nate's in Meghan's room, playing with action figures." She soothed the one-year-old. "You're good with babies, so I need you to watch her. Nate has school, so I'll drop him off when I take Meghan, and I can take Enid too, if you want."

"Denise took her to school."

"Oh, well I can pick her up then." She checked her watch and carefully passed the baby over to her sister. "I'll be back soon, and I can explain this mess."

"I hope so." She adjusted the baby as Lilly rounded up her daughter and Beth's son and headed out. She scanned the living room for somewhere to sit, but everything was covered in boxes. She settled on sitting on the floor, unzipping her jacket so the cold zipper wouldn't rub against Becca's sensitive baby cheeks.

Her full name was Rebecca. Rebecca Josephine, after Maggie's birth mom—though Maggie insisted Beth didn't have to do that. Of course she still did anyway, and Noah was fine with it. His parents too, but Tara suspected he would have to name the next one after one of them. There might not be a next one, but if there was, his or her name was picked out and ready for him or her.

Tara soothed the baby, her wails softening to whimpers, and Tara studied the little biracial cutie in her arms. Nate had been just as precious, only with more curls on his head and looking more like his mother whereas Becca's skin was lighter with a mixture of Beth's and Noah's different hair types and color even. She had big green eyes like Maggie's, puffy little cheeks and what looked like Beth's nose. No one could tell. They even whipped out the baby albums to try and see whose nose she had, but they couldn't figure it out. Hershel said it was Beth's, and Maggie said it was Noah's, and then Noah's dad agreed with Maggie, but his mom with Hershel. Now it's a huge mess with bets being made. Tara was in charge of the bets, though Hershel didn't want to go that far. Maggie, Glenn, Noah's parents, Noah, and Beth and everyone they worked with had money in this pool. Only time would tell, and Tara leaned toward Noah. Mostly because something of him had to show through. This kid was about 99.9% Beth's genes, so something had to be his, right?

Becca looked up at Tara with those big eyes, her cheeks tear stained and pink, and she hiccuped.

"Okay, I get it. It's cute, all right?" She scolded her uterus. "Not happening." She wasn't down with artificial insemination. She was fine with adopting, and it wasn't like she'd even considered adopting a baby. She and Denise were still grasping parenthood. They'd only been in it for two years, and they had gotten a teenager. All the hard stuff, they'd missed out on: potty training, teaching how to walk and talk, teething, and all of that good stuff. She went through it with Meghan, but Meg wasn't her baby. She was sidelined. She knew how to do all of that stuff, though, and it'd... What the hell was happening here?

"You're evil." Tara narrowed her eyes at the small child. "What is this? Why am I having these thoughts? What are you doing to me? It's the smell, isn't it?"

Becca could only stare at her.

"I'm talking to a baby." She shook her head. "Well, if you start talking back...then I'll be worried." She held the baby girl closer, wrapping her arms around her loosely, and Becca rested her head on Tara's chest. Tara could feel all those maternal instincts rush into her, and she couldn't help the smile that crossed her lips. She had always planned on adopting a baby one day. Lilly even mentioned that when she told her of her plans to adopt Enid. Maybe one day...

"Sorry." Lilly entered through the front door and found her sister on the floor with Rebecca on her chest. "Aww."

"Don't aww. Help me."

"No way." She lowered her voice and sat in front of her sister on the floor. "She's been crying since she left Beth's arms, and I need this silence. My ears are still ringing."

"You're the mom."

"So are you."

"You know what I meant." She nodded her chin toward the boxes. "What's with the boxes?"

"Caesar and I are moving in together."

"What?" she exclaimed in a whisper, Becca stirred, but didn't fuss, and she lowered her voice even more. "When did this happen?"

"Last week when you and Denise went to the girls' game, and we had a date. We...decided then. It's been two years, and Meghan's comfortable with him. I trust him, and you trust him. Meghan trusts him."

"He's a great guy, Lilly. I won't say he isn't, but...is he ready for this? I mean, if it works out, he'll be a dad again, and...you know what happened before. His past."

"I know, but...if he struggles with it, I'll be there. And I have Denise to help him if I can't." She smiled lovingly. "I have you too."

"Well, doy."

"Tara, for the first time...I'm not worried about what's going to happen, or that I won't be able to handle it. I know now that there are things I'll need help with, and I'm not scared to reach out. I have people in my life who want to help, and...well, I don't feel like I'm letting him down anymore."

"Him?" Tara's eyes narrowed in confusion then widened in understanding. "Dad."

"After what happened to you during the shooting, and what happened to Meghan...because of my carelessness... I felt like I was just letting the world win and failing Dad. It's my job to look after you. You're my kid sister, and Meghan's my daughter...and that year, I failed all three of you in the worst way." She swallowed hard. "I can't forgive myself for that—"

"It wasn't your fault, Lilly. It was my job, and Meghan... It could have been any girl. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I know, and I understand that now. It just took time." She smiled slowly. "I think I'm ready...to stop looking back, to stop trying to put myself in his shoes. I'm not Dad. I never will be, but...that's okay. I don't have many years with Meg left before she's off in college, so I better start finding my footing as a parent soon, or it'll go to waste."

"Who knows. You and Caesar could have babies," Tara teased.

"Will you and Denise?" Lilly shot back.

"No, but marriage is definitely in our future. If she says yes."

"What?!" Lilly gasped, jerking forward. "Marriage?"

"Dude, you'll deafen the baby." She held Becca close and stood up, walking away.

"You don't get to walk off." Lilly was right back in her face. "When did you decide to get married? Or propose? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"It just sort of happen last week with Enid."

"Enid knew before me?"

"Dude, she's my kid. Of course she knew before you, my sister." She cradled the one-year-old. "I just decided it, and Enid and I picked out a ring. I haven't decided when or where I'll ask, but I am going to ask."

Lilly nodded.

"The last couple of years have been great, and I don't need a piece of paper to ensure the rest of our relationship will be great, but...I want...more with her. I don't need marriage for that, but I'd like to get married. To her." She could feel the blush that was burning on her cheeks, and she turned away from her sister.

"That's really great, Tara." She beamed. "I'm happy for you."

"Really?"

"Of course." She tossed an arm around her shoulder for a half-hug as she was still holding Becca. "I'm wishing for the best, whenever you pop the question."

"Same to you with Caesar." She peeked at her sister's face. "Don't get pregnant until Meghan's in college, 'cause this place just isn't big enough for the four of you."

"Oh, shut up." She removed her arm. "Are you hungry? I haven't had breakfast yet."

"I ate at home, but I never turn down coffee."

"One piping hot cup of coffee coming right up."

"It doesn't have to be _piping hot_."

"Wimp."

Tara rolled her eyes and leaned against the arm of the couch, wondering where to put this little bundle when she had her coffee, and her mind returned to what Lilly had said about Dad. She could relate to that. Tara always looked up to her dad, always turned to him for help, and he always had an answer, but here lately she didn't look to her dad's example. She simply trudged through it and found her own way. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. She learned from the times that it didn't, and she was finding her own parenting style. She was standing on her own two feet, and it was nice. It felt awkward and terrifying, because of all the things that could go wrong, but it was great. She was learning with Denise and with Enid, with her family, and that was amazing. She loved her dad and would honor his memory, but she was no longer judging herself on not following his example.

––

"You and Lori had lunch?" Tara put out juice barrels for the little kids while Michonne filled the cooler with pop and water for the teenagers. They had arrived early to help Sasha and Bob set up for Marty's birthday party. Sadly no sex again today, as Denise had a meeting via phone call, and therefore Denise was coming later with the Enid and Meg, as Lilly and Caesar were busy with unpacking and couldn't make it until much later.

"She wanted to discuss getting Carl and Andre a car." She unloaded the 12 packs and looked up at Tara. "Apparently Rick and Carl had a deal that on his 17th birthday, they'd discuss getting a car, so Lori and I met a year in advance to talk about. I don't think they're ready for a car yet."

"Oh, hell no. They can take cabs and walk like the rest of...people."

Michonne chuckled. "If they go to college then maybe I'll consider it, but until then... we're leaning towards no."

"And here Carl thought you two fighting was the worst thing that could happen." Sasha entered the kitchen.

"Now they're a mom unit." Tara helped herself to a blueberry raspberry juice barrel and cringed at its syrupy sweetness.

"I bet Rick's thrilled." Sasha took the juice from Tara. "Stick to water. It'll rot your teeth less."

"Why are these here?" Tara wheezed.

"Because little kids love them, and I couldn't talk Bob out of buying them." She set it on the counter. "Just be glad you don't have any little kids who will be gulping them down." They turned to Michonne who had a five year old on the way. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Lori has the kids tonight." She grinned wickedly. "And Andre has a sleepover."

"Somebody's gettin' laid tonight," Tara singsonged.

"It's not like I planned it to work out like this." She stood up, finished with the drinks.

"Sure." Sasha crossed her arms. "You just happened to be wearing the necklace Rick gave you for your anniversary, shaved your legs and are wearing the perfume he loves."

"How did you know I shaved?"

"I didn't, but you just told me." She smirked. "All these years as partners, and she still falls into my traps."

"Just look out for my trap," Michonne shot back.

Tara shook her head. "All right, I have to use the bathroom before I get swarmed by little kids."

"They do jump on you, don't they?" Sasha asked. "Why is that?"

"Because I'm awesome."

"You're like a giant child yourself," Michonne corrected. "And they know they can sucker you into sneaking them sweets."

"Right, right. Like last Christmas when Judy sweet talked into getting her an extra cookie," Sasha mused with her partner.

"And then Nate—"

"I will not take this abuse." Tara held her hands up and started to walk away when something in her pocket caught on the counter and fell out. "I hate these pockets. They're not deep enough."

Sasha and Michonne were silent, Tara frowned and looked down to see it was the robin's egg-colored little box lying on the black and white tiled floor, and she prepared herself for what was going to come next. She hadn't told anybody beyond Enid and Lilly, not even Noah, so this was going to be a fun conversation.

"Is that...?" Michonne reached down and collected the box, opening it to reveal a set of silver rings. "This is..."

Sasha pointed to the box. "Tara...?"

"Wow, not that these aren't great questions, but could you please, you know, finish them?" Tara folded her arms over her chest. "I'm a good cop, but come on. What the hell, guys?"

"You're proposing?" Michonne requested. "To Denise? _Today_?"

"At my son's birthday party?" Sasha added.

"No. Yes. I mean, no, but yes. Wait, yes but no." She stopped to think about it and nodded. "Yes, but no."

"Yes, but no to what?"

"I'm proposing, but probably not here. I've had these rings with me for about a week now, just...trying to find the right moment, and it hasn't happened yet." She pulled the box from her friend's palm and held it close to her chest. "I'm still...trying to work it out myself."

"Tara." Sasha hugged her. "That's awesome."

"That I can't propose to my girlfriend?"

"No, that you're going to. Eventually." She smiled at her. "I've been waiting for this to happen since...well, I started to like you."

"You didn't like me right off the bat?"

"No."

"Well, I didn't like you either." She huffed then smiled at her. "And thank you."

"Don't stress about the right moment," Michonne advised. "You'll never really find it, or...you'll propose and then your ex comes to tell you she's pregnant."

"What?" Sasha and Tara blurted.

Michonne sighed. She'd never told them the story, but it wasn't hard to work out. She and Rick had been together longer than Judith had been alive, but it wasn't always...easy. They didn't actually get married until Lori was about three and a half months along, though they might as well have been married a long time ago. Sometimes even though forget and add years they haven't actually gotten to yet.

"Rick and I weren't together...for about two weeks. We weren't really broken up, but we kind of were at the same time," she explained. "Lori wanted his help explaining our break up to Carl, so he stayed over. He didn't know if we'd get back together or not, and he got drunk. Lori tried to get him to stop drinking, but he was wallowing about their failed marriage and our failed relationship, and she decided to have a couple drinks with him. One thing lead to another, and we have Judith."

"What? That's how she got pregnant?" Sasha gaped. "Well, I can stop hating Rick. I always thought he cheated."

"Yeah. He felt so guilty he told me, even though we hadn't seen each other since for weeks. I don't think he ever really forgave himself for that." She shrugged a shoulder. "He then proceeded to propose. He said...he figured out what he wanted, and he didn't want to screw it up again."

"Well...that's kind of sweet." Tara wasn't really sure if it was sweet or not, but the hell else could she say?

"The point is...just ask her. Don't wait. Don't waste time. The place or time doesn't matter, all that matters is that you love each other and you want to spend the rest of your lives together." She smiled encouragingly. "Don't worry. I know she'll say yes."

"Well, thanks for the pep talk. I'm gonna have an anxiety attack in the bathroom over this major life decision that could potentially backfire and ruin my life." She slipped out of the kitchen.

Sasha cocked her head to the side. "Wait, weren't you guys married in August?"

"Yes, why?"

"If Rick proposed when Lori found out she was pregnant then you would have been married in May."

Michonne smiled softly. "I didn't say yes."

"Why not?"

"One he'd slept with his ex, two he'd gotten her pregnant, and three he then asked me to be his wife? That's not at all ideal or romantic. I needed time, and I couldn't put Andre through a failed marriage. I had to consider my son, and...Rick proved himself to be loyal to both me and Andre. I said yes three months later."

Sasha smiled. "It doesn't even matter. You guys are like the oldest married couple in the entire station, regardless of what that piece of paper says."

"I know. I've been married for longer than Judy's been alive according to you all. It makes me feel old."

"You're not old," Sasha replied, "just older."

"Sadly not all that wiser."

"That's what you think." She turned and strolled out of the kitchen to help her in-laws set up for their grandson's birthday.

Michonne heaved a sigh but her lips formed a grin.

––

Tara was tackled to the ground by every small child, her hand twitching for freedom from the weight of them all, but only laughter came. She curled every finger down save for her middle one, Enid and Meg than began to offer the kids juice barrels, and she was able to free herself. She had grass strains on her jeans, but her shirt and plaid over shirt were spared. She ensured the rings were still in her pocket, and she exhaled in relief.

Andre and Meghan were on the ground, playing with Judith who seemed eager to prove she was stronger than her brother, and Meghan was highly amused by the little girl's zeal. Enid and Carl were playing a game of basketball with Bob and Rick, and Nate was trying to play with Marty, but it wasn't working out too well. He couldn't play with his own sister either, so he was super bored. Tara busted out laughing when the boy flopped backwards onto the grass and wriggled when he'd come to the conclusion that Marty wasn't going to play with him.

"Noah, go play with your child." Tara nudged him.

He rubbed his shoulder. "I played with all day yesterday, and I have bruises. He's stronger than me."

"That's not hard to be," Tara snorted. "Marty's stronger than you."

"Please, Becca's stronger than him," Beth teased.

"Aren't you supposed to be on my side?" Noah narrowed his eyes.

"I am, but I can't lie." She laced her hands together behind her back. "Plus, you're skinny like a rod. You have no muscle."

"Tara doesn't either."

"And she's still stronger than you." She smiled at his defeated face. "Don't worry. I didn't marry you because you were strong."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?" he grumbled.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Yes, because muscles and strength fade, but not what I feel for you."

He blushed.

"God, get a room with your romance." Tara rolled her eyes, but wore a smile. "You two make me sick, you're so sugary-sweet with each other."

"I can't love my husband?" Beth studied Tara. "Or...you can't propose to your girlfriend?"

Tara blinked and turned to the blonde. "What?"

"I overheard you guys in the kitchen." She had to put Rebecca down for a nap, and Sasha was letting her use Martin's room, which was by the kitchen. It was a nice room, especially as it wasn't his actual bedroom, just a room for him when he came to see his grandparents. It was above and beyond a second bedroom, and Beth was slightly jealous of the effort. She knew Daddy and Ma would probably do the same if she lived back home, and it mostly made her homesick. They needed to go back to Georgia soon, so she could see them and the farm and breath that fresh country air.

"Wait, you're gonna ask her to marry you?" Noah pulled his wife's arms off his shoulders lightly. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. I've been carrying the rings around for about a week now. I just...dunno when to ask, or how. I'm not good at romance, to be honest. The last time I considered this...I was with Alicia, and that went to hell. I don't want that to happen again."

"When Noah proposed, he took me out for a fancy dinner. We had wine,we danced, and it was really romantic." Beth then shivered. "Then...it turned out he lost the ring he'd been saving up for somewhere along the way, so when he went to ask me to marry him...there was no ring."

"What? You lost that ring?!" Tara scolded him. "It took you months to save up for it! I even chipped in!"

"We found it, don't worry," Noah griped. "Geez."

"He'd asked the chef to put it in the dessert." Beth giggled. "He was so nervous he'd forgotten."

"Good, because if you'd lost that ring, I would kill you right here, right now." She huffed. "And this doesn't help me. I'm not going to fancy it all up. I want it to be genuine, not..classic or cheesy. I want it to be real, something...that's just us."

"You'll figure it out," Noah assured her. "You always do."

"Thanks."

"If you'll excuse us, we have to feed Becca. She's like Beth when she's hungry, and I don't think a crying baby will liven up this party."

"I do not cry when I'm hungry." Beth sent him a glare. "I do complain."

"That's what her crying is right now. I can only imagine how bad it'll be when she learns how to talk." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Why can't at least one of my kids take after me?"

Tara watched them head inside to where Rosita was hogging all of Becca's time. She was in deep with babies right now, especially since she was expecting one, and she loved to be around them. Marty was a mama's boy, so he didn't like other women to hold him, but Becca loved attention. She only got cuter when more people came around. It was damn evil. That kid was too cute for her own good, and she knew how to work it.

"Wait up, Chambler." Rosita grasped her arm and walked with her. "We need to talk."

"Your son's playing with Nate. It's just...well, not really football 'cause they don't get the rules, but Sasha's keeping a close eye on them."

"I meant you and Denise."

"Okay, I really do appreciate the support and ideas, but I don't want to hear anything engagement story. I've been hearing them all week, and I can't anymore. I love you, but please do not tell me how Spencer popped the question."

"Okay, how about I tell you how I popped his man-cherry?" Tara paled and cringed at that, and Rosita laughed. "I'm not here to tell you how to propose to anybody. I'm here to tell you to stop procrastinating. You do this, and you psych yourself out. Just stop comparing it to your past relationship blunders and just do it. Here or there, it doesn't matter if you mean what you say and say what you feel."

Tara grasped Rosita's wrist and hauled her away from the party and to the front lawn. "That's not what's bugging me."

"What is it?" She studied her detective and found no answer in those coffee-colored orbs. "Tara?"

"It's been two years since the shooting," Tara answered. "I went to her grave to... I dunno. I just went there, and Mika was there. She was alone, but...she saw me."

"What happened?"

"She told me she was sorry, she said she didn't blame me, and that...she was happy. She said Lizzie didn't have to suffer through her sickness anymore." She could remember the young girl's smile as plain as day. It was authentic, and it was content. She'd found peace. "She even hugged me."

"Why is this bothering you? It sounds like good news."

"It is good news, but...it made me realize that this whole time...we were so focused on me and my well-being that...no one asked after Noah."

"He went through therapy."

"Yeah, but I know Noah. He hasn't been Noah in quite a long time, and I didn't even notice it until I saw Mika. She was back to herself, back to being a teenager, but Noah... He's going through the motions. He's not...himself."

Rosita pondered that and frowned.

"That means...we really failed him. We're his family, his team, and we...let him fall through the cracks, and that's what's bugging me." She stepped back, shifting her weight. "I keep seeing the changes, the small things he does differently, and it's...becoming more noticeable."

Just last week they had to pull him out of an interrogation because he went off on a suspect. They assumed it was due to the crime—the murder of a baby and mother—because of his own wife and kids, but thinking back to a similar crime, before the shooting, Noah kept his cool. He even got a confession out of the son of a bitch. They'd written it off as a bad mood, as he'd been cussed out, lacked sleep and was told his family was next by the asshole they'd arrested. If that wasn't the case, if after two years...they'd only just realized this...

"Fuck." Rosita dropped her head to hand. "Fuck."

Tara nodded. "Welcome to my shit mood."

"Fuck!" She lifted her head. "Why didn't we see this before?"

"We were busy with our own problems, and Noah's one hell of an actor." She shook her head. "He's slipping a lot lately, and...he's less affectionate with Beth. Just now...he brushed off her hug, and he doesn't do that. It's like he's less and less tolerant of things he used to love."

"Is that why he won't play with Nate?"

"I think so."

She shook her head. "How do I even begin this conversation? _Two years later_?"

"Not here, that's for sure. Maybe tomorrow. He'll deflect, like I did, but...play the family card, and he'll...give in. It's terrible, but it's his weakness."

She nodded and met Tara's eyes with a smile on her lips. "Well, it seems I have competition."

"Hmm?"

"What you recognized, what you suggested, how it's weighing on you..." She straightened her spine. "That's an essential part of my job."

Tara's eyes widened. "I didn't—"

"I've been looking for someone to lead in my place when I go on maternity leave." She stepped towards her. "I considered bringing someone else in, or possibly Michonne due to seniority, but...now I think I might lean on you."

"What? Me?"

"I'll just have to see how you handle yourself in the coming months."

"Wait, wait, I didn't mean to—"

"No one ever means to," she interjected. "Being captain isn't easy. It's not something you just study for and excel at. It takes a lot more, and you already have that more."

"Why are you talking like you've considered...leaving?"

She averted her eyes momentarily. "I'm considering it."

"What? Why?" Tara's heart ached at the thought of someone replacing Rosita, changing their family and team, and she felt sick.

"Because I need steadier hours. I need...stability that my position should but doesn't offer. I'm gonna have two kids soon, and I want to be in their lives more. I want to be with my fiance more." Her smile grew faint and was rimmed with sadness. "And we need some fresh blood, so...maybe it's time for me to move on. I worked hard for my position, and I don't regret that, but I remember how hard it was being pregnant and captain. After I had Alejándro, it didn't get better."

"But you don't have to leave. I can pick up any slack. All of us would—"

"It's my job to make your jobs easier, not harder." She inhaled. "Things change, Tara. People, opinions, feelings...and mine have changed. I don't want to be a stay-at-home-mom, but I want time with my children without worrying about work. I'm going to take time off, and when it ends, I'll decide what to do with my career. Whether I end it and begin yours or Michonne's, who's to say?"

"Rosita..."

"But don't worry. I won't be out of your lives. You're my family too, all of the team is, which is why we'll help Noah. We'll stand by him through his trials, and whoever he becomes, better or not, we'll stand by that man as well. We're a family, no matter what happens." Her smile forcibly widened. "So, if I resign and hand you a promotion, you'd better consider it, Chambler. That's an order."

Tara stared at the woman she'd known as Captain their entire relationship, tears edging her eyes, her smile so painfully forced, and she swallowed back her own tears. She saw every moment with Rosita, from rookie to the second grade homicide detective she was now. She suddenly recalled all of Rosita's tips and methods and their late night conversations. They were fading to memories before her eyes, but instead of crying and begging her to not leave them, she nodded to Captain Espinosa. "Yes, ma'am."

––

When the sun fell, they lit up lanterns and the kids were given glow sticks and the teens sparklers, and they roasted up some snacks while Bob regaled the kids with horror stories. The wind gently blew at them, the babies all snuggled up in Marty's bedroom, and Sasha was a little disappointed that he couldn't stay awake for cake. He couldn't blow them out, but she wanted to make a video, and Bob said they could do it another day. It wasn't like he'd know. It was underhanded, but they were gonna do it anyway.

Tara leaned on the fence, a sparkler in her hand, and the wind gathered up her hair. She'd lost her hair tie to Meghan who had her stolen by Enid, and she didn't care. Her mind was clogged with the news Rosita had revealed to her, and she couldn't come out of the lonely place she was nestled in.

She was never fond of change. It always felt like she was losing something. She had always felt that way, and nobody could ever shake her feelings on change. Change had taken her mother and father, had taken a girlfriend she dearly loved from her, and change had nearly taken her sister and niece. She knew good things came from change, and it would be so awesome for Alejándro and his sibling to have their mom around all the time, but it'd be heartbreaking for the team to lose their captain. Espinosa made them a team and a family, pairing them up with their perfect matches and assigning them tasks that challenged them as both people and detectives. It was her talent. She always...was there for them through everything, and...how could anybody, even Michonne, fill her shoes? How could Tara, if it came down to that?

And Noah... The torment he's silently endured for two years while they didn't notice. They were all living life, being blissful. Rosita and Spencer were fighting for each other and their relationship's success. Michonne and Lori were struggling to understanding and accept the other as a vital part of their children's lives. Sasha and Bob trying to raise their first child. Caesar learning about Meghan and Lilly and finding a way to overcome his issues as a failure of a father for Meghan's sake. Tara and Denise fighting tooth and nail for Enid. They each had their own individual battles, but they worked together, they were a family, and they didn't see the shadows falling on Noah. He didn't want them to, so they didn't. They didn't push. They didn't nudge. They simply let him fall. Even his own wife who was distracted by her newborn and her son.

Golden light reflected in those coffee-colored spheres, her fifth sigh meaningless against the blaze of the sparkler she held, and a darkness seeped out of her. Denise had been pulled here and there all day, and now she'd managed to escape to find her girlfriend in this condition. Her heart ached, and she balled her hands into fists to steel her resolve.

"Hey, there you are." She greeted her with a wide smile. "I've been looking for you."

"Oh? I've been...kind of avoiding people." She turned to her. "Sorry."

She waved it away. "Why are you avoiding people?"

"Noah probably has PTSD, and Rosita's considering leaving after she has her baby."

"Oh." Denise swallowed that news. "I see."

"Everything's changing." She twirled the sparkler. "With our friends, our family, us. Nothing's the same."

"That's not a bad thing."

"I know, but why can't it just stay how it is for a little longer? I mean, we just got...back to normal."

"Tara, what is normal?" She tilted her head at her. "Honestly, nothing is ever normal or back to how it used to be. It's just...manageable now. You adjust to the new surroundings, and it's acceptable. It's not back how it was."

She peered at her mutely.

"I know it's not when you want or need to hear, but change has to happen. You'll adjust to the new captain, and you'll be friends with Rosita. You'll adjust to the person Noah will become. He'll come out a better person too, a stronger one, and I know it doesn't seem like good news to be losing two people you care about; and your new captain might be awful, but...no matter what, you'll have your family, and our daughter." She sucked in a deep breath, her cheeks burning with color, and Tara wondered what she was about to say that would make her look like that. "And you'll have me. I know it's...kind of random to say that, but..." She continued to stammer through.

It dawned on her what was happening, the sparkler fell from her fingers, and Tara stared as her girlfriend proposed to her. Flushed cheeks, stammering, struggling to keep eye contact from her anxiety, but there she was. Those beautiful clear eyes gleamed with determination and adoration, her hands loosely balled at her sides, her posture confidence and more assured than her voice, and Tara's heart soared.

The moment of answering had passed, Denise's confidence shrank, and Tara only continued to stare. Denise squirmed under the brunette's gaze, Tara unscrewed her jaw and busted out laughing as stress and darkness fled her body, and Denise wasn't sure what to feel or how to react.

This whole time! She laughed. This whole time she was preparing to propose to Denise, and Denise was preparing to propose to her! She didn't even see it coming she was so caught up with her own proposal plans. She was so nervous about what would happen when she asked Denise, about what would change, about...everything, and now...she was light as a feather, so fucking elated it had to be a crime.

"Tara."

She hadn't realized that somewhere her laughter had turned to tears, and she set her hands on her cheeks. They ached from the laughter, and the tears weren't entirely from the sorrow the coming days would bring. Change could be a cruel bitch, but change could also be kind and surprising and amazing.

"I love you," she told the blonde through her tears.

"But?" Denise whispered.

"But," Tara continued, "I can't marry you."

"Oh..."

"Without," Tara pressed before Denise could bolt, "you agreeing to marry me too." She dug the box out of her pocket. "I've been carrying these around for a week, but the idea behind them for a lot longer. I...I just really couldn't find the words or the way I wanted to go about proposing to you. I mean, it's you, and I didn't want to screw it up, so I guess that's why this is so perfect."

"Tara..." Her eyes stung.

"So," Tara opened the box and extended one of the rings out to Denise, "I'll marry you, if you marry me."

Denise accepted the ring and grasped Tara's left hand, slipping it onto her ring finger, never taking her eyes off of Tara's. "Of course I'll marry you." She pulled the other ring from the box and held it out to the woman she loved more than anyone else.

Tara snapped the box shut and slipped it into her pocket, accepting the ring and gliding it down Denise's ring finger. "Good, because I don't want to marry anybody else."

Denise wiggled her finger with the weight of the engagement ring. There was no diamond, no overdone design, and it wasn't eye-catching, but what it was was them. It suited them both perfectly. A simple silver band with a heart engraved on the inside. It wasn't hidden, it was simply for only their eyes. Denise lifted her hands and caught Tara's cheeks, bringing her close and kissing her, forgetting they were at their friends' son's second birthday party, completely enveloped in a world entirely their own. Tara set her hands over Denise's, gripping them tightly as more tears fell free, and she smiled against her fiancee's lips.

Denise pulled back when Tara's lips vibrated against hers, trying to catch her breath, her forehead resting on Tara's. "What?"

Tara ignored the burning in her lungs and kissed her once more. "I said I love you. I love you so much."

Denise traced Tara's bottom lip with the tip of her thumb, and her lips reflected Tara's smile. "I love you too." She kissed the tip of her nose and embraced her.

"Annnddd cut!" Enid lowered the camera she'd swiped from Bob. "May I please get in on this hug?"

Tara noticed when Denise pulled away everyone was watching, she flushed, but she embraced it and offered Enid a spot in the hug. Enid ran over and tackled her parents, so proud of them and thrilled by the not at all surprising news of their engagement. Denise ran a hand down Enid's hair, smiling at her, thankful for her aid in helping her come to this decision, and Tara did a similar gesture, only gripping her hand. Enid grinned and hugged them tighter.

Congratulations spread around, hugs as well, and Sasha's in-law broke into the champagne they kept for adult company. Sasha didn't mind them taking the spotlight as her baby boy and Becca were both hugging up with the stuffed penguin Marty had gotten from Meghan. Rosita joked about a double wedding, and Tara busted out laughing. A lesbian couple, and a couple who have made babies out of wedlock. It would be perfect, but Spencer and Denise were both refusing as politely as possible.

"So, I can totally have a drink of that, right?" Enid pointed to the champagne flute in Tara's hand. "A sip?"

"Not on your life." Tara handed her a juice barrel. "Here."

She scrunched her nose, but drank it, heading to join Meghan in reviewing the tape.

"Hey, Tara, I'm your best man, right?" Noah inquired. "I've had your back through everything, so it has to be me, right?"

Tara smirked. "You wish."

"I'm her maid of honor," Beth corrected. "Right?"

Tara laughed to avoid answering that question. "Let me just come to terms with my engagement, guys."

"Fine, fine, but we'll talk soon to work out the details." Beth winked and noticed Rosita pulling her husband away for the second time that night. She noted how Noah looked, and she knew she couldn't pretend to not notice anymore. For his sake, she tried, but no more. Her friends—her family—were moving forward, and it was time for her to move forward to, which meant helping Noah move forward as well. She knew it was long away, but she had been preparing for it since they called and told her her husband, father of son, had been shot in the line of duty.

Cries caught her attention, Sasha was calming Martin down, and Bob was handing Rebecca to Noah. Beth hurried over to comfort her daughter, and Tara and Denise looked over at the set of parents soothing their babies. Tara's gaze softened when the babies began to hush, and Denise laced her fingers through her fiancee's.

"You want one?" Denise gestured to the babies.

"Yeah. You?"

She smiled. "With you? Yeah."

"Let me know which one, and I'll just slip it into my coat on our way out."

"I'm being serious." She sat straight. "I love Enid, but...I want to live through the struggle of having an infant. I want to raise a child with you, and I want Enid to have a sibling. It's...a great experience."

"Really?" She met her eyes.

"Yes, really."

"We're getting married, and you want to adopt a baby." She beamed. "Don't wake me up if this is a dream."

"It's no dream." She lowered her voice. "It's what I want...what we want, right?"

She nodded and tightened her grip on her hand. "Everything's changing," Tara commented, a reflection to their conversation prior to their engagement.

"Everything's changing," Denise repeated.

"Don't let go, okay?"

She smiled. "I promise."

In those clear eyes, Tara saw how the rest of their lives would play out, an urge to see it all again ran through her, and she smiled to herself, knowing she'd get to live it. She would get to live this life with a woman she never expected to meet and a teenager daughter she never expected to have so soon. She didn't know who was pulling the strings, but she hoped they never decided to part her from this woman.

Enid ran over to them to show the tape of their engagement, Denise and Tara held hand behind her back, and Tara smiled at her family, not interested in the tape whatsoever. Her daughter and future wife were so enthralled in it, smiling and pointing at things, and she watched them instead, because they were all that mattered. Well, them and the people crowding around to re-watch the most important moment of her life!

Tara wasn't claustrophobic, but damn, she could feel someone breathing on her neck. "Guys, space!"


End file.
